Thirty
by VostroCaro
Summary: two boys simply trying to cope together. / written for the 30 day OTP challenge in the name of Destiel. Chapter 30 - doing something hot (a.k.a. like a screen door in a hurricane)
1. holding hands (or lack thereof)

**I just need something to get me through exam season, but not an in-depth, proper story. These'll only be beta'd by myself, but hopefully I'll publish one per day... and not neglect revision and/or exams.**

**edit: i somehow published this without the first paragraph. I'm crying a little bit. fixed now.**

* * *

Dean's sitting quietly, and I think that's when I first knew something was up. Dean isn't even quiet when he's asleep; his loud personality manifests through snores that sometimes seem to shake the whole bed.

I put my bag down, and I sit on the sofa next to him. "Hello, Dean."

My mind runs through the possible courses of action. Going for the direct route has never worked; he's so set against 'chick flick moments' that if he smells even a hint of one from a mile away, his walls are up instantly and you have no chance of getting him to talk. However, I can't simply leave him to stew on it – that usually results in an explosive display of repressed emotion, and I don't think I can handle seeing Dean angry as a consequence of my actions (or lack thereof) again.

How does one broach a dangerous subject subtly, yet speedily, without knowing the subject?

"Hey, Cas." He says the words on a sigh, and my eyebrows furrow. He sounds almost… _mournful_.

"Did you have a good day?"

He shrugs, delightfully uncommunicative. "Didn't do much. Yours?"

"As usual." _Why is Dean staring at the TV if it's not on?_ "Is it… customary for you to watch the TV whilst it's off?"

"Nah, I turned it off."

I wait a few beats for him to continue, as he always does; tell me about the episode of _Dr Sexy MD _he was watching, comment on the Spanish channels being much better than the 'reality shit' on the rest of the channels, anything… but he doesn't expand, leaving me to continue conversation. _This role reversal doesn't suit our characterisation, Dean._

"What were you watching?" I refuse to pay any more heed to the air of awkwardness and look directly at Dean. He seems somewhat more comfortable under my gaze, unlike when first we met.

"Some sappy romantic shit. Think it was supposed to be a movie." The hint of a smirk makes me roll my eyes, much as I am glad for the… _Dean-ness_ of that simple gesture.

"Tell me about it, it sounds interesting."

His eyes snap to meet mine, almost in a panic. He seems satisfied in what he sees, mocking me with a smile and turning back to the blank TV screen. "Some couple were perfect together, then one of 'em dies, and the chick's told he was a crap boyfriend for the whole rest of the film. It ends with her kissing this dude she met halfway through."

"That sounds cheerful."

His only response is a grunt.

_I don't think this is going anywhere. Maybe if you were better with words…_

"Did you find it so good that you could bear no other cinematic production to grace the screen or do you find the black fascinating?"

His mouth twitches into the shape of a smile again. "I was just thinking."

I raise my eyebrows a little. "Anything you feel like sharing?"

"Not particularly."

_I give up._ "Well, I'll be here if you change your mind."

I move off and away from the sofa towards our small kitchen; I may as well get on with dinner and leave him with his thoughts. If he explodes, then at least I can know I've tried.

Not that it's much of a consolation. I feel as though I ought to try harder, and, in fact, I turn and open my mouth to Dean's back more times than I can count before realising I have nothing to say to him.

The smell of almost-cooked pasta draws Dean over to wait for his bowl. We eat in silence; me unable to instigate conversation, him unwilling. I find it hard to even look at him, so I don't.

"Cas." He says suddenly, and I look up from my two-thirds empty bowl. His bowl is finished and his fists are clenched on the table, but he's looking down until his eyes snap up to mine. "Are you happy?"

I feel my head tilt in confusion, and I have a small portion of my brain lamenting the awkward habit left over from teenage-hood, while the rest of me wonders. "I- what?"

"Are you happy?" He repeats, simply.

I feel lost and open my mouth to answer, then close it. I know the answer, of _course_ I know the answer, but I don't know the context of the question and I don't know if it's the _right_answer. "Yes." His eyes say he doesn't believe me. "Dean, why do you ask?"

He looks down. "We're not exactly a normal couple."

"Well, no; normal couples don't-" he interrupts what would have been an abysmal attempt at a joke.

"Let me finish." I nod. "Normal couples don't have a pile of bills that only one of them pays. Normal couples go out on dates sometimes, not just eat pre-made pasta at home." I look down at the pasta I have left. "No – I don't mind the pasta, I… let me get to the end?" I nod again, drop my gaze back on his. "They have cute pet names. They give stupid gifts. They _hold hands_, for fuck's sake, and we don't even do _that_. I just… I guess I don't see how you can be happy with me."

"I'm with you." He opens his mouth. "No – it's your turn to let _me _finish. You know I lack finesse with words, so bear with me." He nods, a wry smile twisting his lips. "I've never_ had_normal, Dean. My family left _me _hardly normal. And then I met you, and you never made me feel like I wasn't. You can't control the chemicals in your brain, you can't control depression… so you can't control whether you feel comfortable enough to get a job or go on a date." I pause, look up. "Honestly? Those are parts of a very short list of things that simply _aren't great _about our relationship. They're not even on a list of things I dislike. If you want to do them, then I'll be happy, yes. If you don't… well, I'd rather have you, regardless."

My pasta's cold, so I put it on the side and walk over to where Dean is sitting. "Is that why you were quiet?"

He nods, doesn't look at all surprised that I noticed, that I linked the two. We smile ruefully at each other as I take the seat directly next to him.

I count the breaths he takes, _one… two… three_, then I feel his warm hand entwine itself with mine.


	2. cuddling somewhere (under some duress)

**shorter than the last, and hopefully shorter than the rest. I'm rushing to be ready for a short-notice sleepover so we can watch spn live. It's a production in the UK, apparently. Wish me luck ;)**

* * *

Sometimes I think it's laughable even to consider Dean and me not being together. Usually that comes when one of us has our arms wrapped around the other. We fit with more ease and comfort than I have experienced before, and I never want to move, to leave the embrace, leave _home_.

###

Dean says he's not a cuddler, but I wake up sweating, and I don't feel the covers on any inch of my body. When I open my eyes, I don't see them either. What I do feel, however, is my boyfriend's warm chest against my back and his arms over me.

I smile and think I can handle the heat.

I relax, make myself comfortable, and lose myself in Dean's embrace.

Roughly a half hour later, I feel a larger exhale of breath over my neck. His eyelashes flutter against my jawline, and I hear and feel a contented breath. He relaxes. Then his eyelashes zoom up and he tenses.

I try to be relaxed, but my heart rate increases.

"Cas?"

"Dean." My voice is gravelly enough that it could appear I have just woken up, same as him. I hope.

He doesn't reply, remaining tense. I feel myself tensing in response, and the instinct to clutch his arm and refuse to let him take it from me is strong.

Eventually, he starts to relax; I can almost hear his internal dialogue fighting between 'this is not manly at _all_' and 'actually, this is quite nice and I'm pretty sure Cas won't judge me as he's participating'.

I take the opportunity to slightly tighten my arms around his.

He kisses my neck; a quick, chaste kiss, then we simply relax together for a while. We don't speak until we eventually have to move before we melt into one big pile of Dean-and-Cas.

Dean's walking across the bedroom and I'm languidly watching. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a great cuddler."

"I'm _not_ a cuddler."

My laugh echoes in the small room.


	3. going to (staying in for) a performance

**this is awful and i know it. i'm severely sleep deprived and emotionally scarred. please bear with me.**

**it's 666 words, if that helps?**

* * *

Some Saturdays, Dean's brother, Sam, and his family like to come over. Dean and I treat them to sandwiches for lunch, the kids run around all afternoon and the rest of us do 'boring adult stuff' like talk, then we have a proper family meal, the likes of which Dean tells me he and Sam had not experienced before me.

When I open the door to see an apologetic expression on Jess' face, I know today is an energetic day – one in which we will all get somewhat dragged into the kids' activities.

"I recognise that bag." I say warily.

"Jo convinced her father that she needed a witch costume, now."

"Despite Halloween being 4 months from now?"

"What do you expect? She has Sam wrapped around her little finger."

Dean smirks. "Well, we all know that. It's good to see you, Jess."

"And you, Dean. Nice to see you, too, Cas."

"Oh, of course." Kisses on cheeks go around, and suddenly Sam walks in with Garth on his shoulders and Jo running just in front of him. Sam has to watch very carefully where he treads, and I'm sure he will do his neck permanent damage – due to his height, the angle he must tilt his head is extremely steep.

"Don't forget to tell them what you bought Garth, honey." Sam grins, knowing immediately what we would have been talking about.

"Garth felt left out. So I had to buy him a costume, too."

I restrain a smile, seeing Garth tugging a distinctive blue and red suit out of the costume bag.

"Spiderman?" Dean says, almost appalled.

"Spiderman's the best!" Garth yells.

"I'm gonna do you a favour and pretend I didn't hear that, little guy."

The kids swarm around us for hugs, prompted by their parents into some semblance of manners.

"Me 'n' Garth are gonna put on a play for you, Uncle Cas." Jo states proudly.

"What is it going to be about?"

"It's a surprise."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is it going to be just you and Garth?"

"Um…" she puts her fist on her chin to think. "Well, I think we still have a few people we could put in." She eyes me speculatively.

"Do you know who really likes being in plays, Jo?" I ask in a low voice.

"No! Who?"

"Come here, I'll tell you." She sits on my lap and I speak slightly quieter. "It's Uncle Dean. But he doesn't like it when I tell people that, so you've got to ask him if he wants to be in it in a way so he doesn't think you're doing it to make him happy, okay?"

"Okay, Uncle Cas!" She grins at me and jumps off over to Dean, who gives me a suspicious glance. I smile and quickly look away.

The dirty look he gives me is well worth seeing him in a crown, made up by the amazingly skilled Jo. He is cast as the evil stepmother, who just happens to be the queen of Everything. "That's with a big E, daddy!"

The witch is not evil – or at least, so she claims – and, out of the goodness of her heart, she offers her help to the good-willed-yet-clumsy-and-pretty-much-useless-Spi derman (characterisation Dean clearly approves of) in order to overthrow the truly evil Queen.

It was a very serious play. It was hard to keep a straight face, however, as Jo was all-but-continuously pinching Dean to remind him to speak in a 'girl voice'.

After it finishes, Dean walks past me to wash his face and oh-so-inconspicuously hits me on the back of my head.

As he walks back, with a bright red face, Jess laughs and says that she does have make-up wipes, Dean, you could have used them if you wanted. I pull him next to me so I can whisper in his ear – "if you ever think of taking me to a performance elsewhere, just know you can save money and go this route…"

He hits me again.


	4. (once upon a time we went) on a date

**so the internet went down for a while and i got a bit panicky that i wouldn't be able to post today. but at least it gave me time to make this slightly better than yesterday's?**

* * *

I come home, expecting to see Dean as soon as I walk through the door – it's a Tuesday, and he is always home on a Tuesday. But he isn't on the sofa, he isn't in the kitchen, and I don't hear the shower.

I don't call out for him. If he's in the house but not in my sight then he won't reply, and if he isn't here then he won't reply.

I don't panic. If he's here, then it's nothing I haven't handled before, and if he isn't here, he'll have left a note.

I pull off my shoes and take off my trench coat before I walk towards the bedroom.

Dean is sat on the bed, cross-legged and tensed. I can only see half of his face, but it's red and shiny.

Tuesdays are bad days, but this is an unusual reaction – Dean can handle himself. He has had to for years.

_Maybe the fact that he's not handling himself is a good sign? He's always telling you how his therapist tells him that advancing may feel like regressing. One step forward, two steps back, right? We need to go back to fix what's broken. Don't say fix about him. He's not broken._

Without hesitation, I slip onto the bed and pull him into my arms. I lean again the head of the bed and I make sure that when he comes with me, his legs straighten out – he'll have been sitting like that for a while, and the pins and needles are only going to get worse.

He doesn't seem to react, but he lets me pull him. I run my fingers through his hair and draw in a breath.

"Do you remember our first date? No, I can't see you forgetting; you're not the forgetting type, are you? You're too sweet for that.

"You arrived in the Impala. Of course you did, how else would you arrive? Like you'd leave her behind… you said she wanted to meet me." I grin. "My siblings had been giving me looks all day. Some were gently teasing; that was Anna… I'd include Gabriel in that, but he was not _gently_ teasing. Michael and Raphael were more reproachful, I suppose… but when we looked out the window at her, not one of them had anything but awe or jealousy on their face. That was immensely satisfying.

"You managed to charm my dad. I don't think I need to tell you how impressive _that _is. I think I already have, actually. We've had enough talks about dads, eh?

"The night only went up from there. You were so shy… far the opposite from the way most people saw you. By that point, I felt like I'd already won… if nothing else came from the night, at least I had seen my family jealous of _me_ – at least by extension – and a part of you no one I knew had.

"You took me to your favourite diner, that's why you were shy… at least, part of the reason. I wouldn't presume to know _everything_ about you – what is it you say? 'A guy's gotta have his secrets'? That. You thought I wouldn't be impressed with a cheap diner, but it was what you liked, and what you could afford. You didn't want to spend too much on someone who may not appreciate you for you… greasy diner food and pies included." I kiss him on the top of his head. "Though who could resist _you_? The shy grin would have sold me if nothing else did. And a lot else did.

"I know you didn't know it then, and I know you know it know, but I'm going to say it for narrative purpose. I really love burgers. Your simple 'I like burgers and this place is nice enough' completely won me over regardless… I don't think any other kind of food could have pleased me as much.

"I don't know what it was about the date, or if it was a lot combined. Nothing special really happened; I've had dates that, by all rights, _should _stick out more in my mind. I'd consider that one my best date, though, by far. You, burgers, meek conversation, the beautiful Impala… even Ellen's slightly overbearing presence."

I press another kiss into his hair and stop for a few seconds. That story has run its course, and I suppose new stories need gaps before one enters a new world. That's what I feel when trying to read a new book just after I've finished another.

I feel Dean's chest rise and fall under my right arm, draped around his stomach. I could almost fall asleep here; I never feel more comfortable than when I am with Dean. I only hope he feels the same, or my story time may only have served to make him feel worse. This method has worked before, though; and I can't say I regret my time with him.

Dean's voice is quiet, but at least it sounds stable, like he hasn't been crying for a while. "Really? My favourite was New Year's."

* * *

**I'm going to try to set these in chronological order, but they're basically oneshots with the same Dean and Cas. There will be weird time jumps between some of them, though, and I'm never gonna say how long or the ages of any of the characters, just to make this easier for me.**

**just in case anyone was wondering :)**


	5. kissing (used as positive reinforcement)

**positive reinforcement is basically giving someone a reward for doing something you like. like giving a dog a treat for sitting when you say 'sit', or kissing your boyfriend when he does something good out of his comfort zone.**

**my internet played up again today; it's been stressful waiting for the small periods of time the internet's up to post this. but here it is ;)**

_**actually titled kissing (is only to be used as positive reinforcement) but i'm not allowed a title to be that long. gross.**_

* * *

As soon as I open the door, Dean advances towards me with a smile on his face. I can't help but smile at him, despite my confusion – he's clearly excited about _something_. I can't even begin to think of what.

"Cas." He stops a mere foot in front of me, voice lifted in a rare way.

"Dean?" My voice is lifted as well; how can I help it?

"I have a plan."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I can work from home."

"Hm?" I tilt my head and hold my smile in place, not sure whether this is really great. _This could go so badly_.

"Hear me out. I applied to some newspapers and equivalent online things… one of them called back and I said I'd only work entirely from home and he said that was okay! It's not definite, but there's been some interest from the others, so… yeah." He grins again.

"That's _brilliant_." I settle on, and fling my arms around his neck and tilt up my head enough to kiss him, a loud, smacking kiss.

"Yeah, I thought so, too." He looks even happier to have my approval, and that makes me feel almost like floating. "It doesn't pay that much, but there's room for promotion and I actually kinda get paid for how much work I do rather than a set amount…"

"Dean, I don't care how much you get paid. You know that." He nods with a slightly sheepish look on his face, but then _I_ know that Dean would have felt his responsibility regardless. "What would you be writing?"

"Don't laugh, but-"

"I wouldn't."

"I know, but still. It's basically the agony aunt section."

"That's _perfect_ for you." I kiss him again, quickly, before remembering I'm still in my coat and shoes and stripping them off.

"Dude…"

"I'm not joking. You've always helped Sam with his problems, and I can't count how many times you've fixed mine. Then there's the fact that you get everyone's life problems out of them in a matter of seconds… no, you'll be great."

He smiles sheepishly again, ducking his head a little and rubbing the back of his neck. "I dunno, it's hardly the most respectable position…"

"That doesn't matter. Besides, whatever newspaper you're writing for will be able to boast a male agony aunt… that'll draw more male readers, at least. Especially since you're _oh-so-masculine_." He is, but he doesn't need to know I think that… when we first got together, Dean was constantly trying to reassure people he was just as masculine as before; he still worked on cars and could still beat you in a fight, etc… he was merely in a relationship with a boy. Instead of supporting him in that, everyone (including me) tried to undermine him. I think he had to wear pink nail varnish for a week to call us off (never underestimate the power of little-sister figures).

"Shut up." He nudges me slightly, still smiling.

I kiss him again, "You know I love you really."

He puts an arm around me, refusing to let me move more than an inch away from him. "I do. And you know I love you back." Kiss.

Long kiss.

Longer kiss, weak knees, **love**.

* * *

**thanks to anyone who reviews, favourites or alerts: you keep me human. don't ever change.**


	6. wearing each other's clothes

**no fun, bracketed titles because I can't think of a fun way to twist this.**

**so i started writing this one at 2pm, thinking i'd get this posted early.**

**nope.**

* * *

I open my eyes up to the warm, lugubrious feeling that comes from waking up in bed with your boyfriend after a really good night.

The slow ascent of my eyelids reveals the sight of a shirtless Dean, still sleeping, a slight twist of the mouth suggesting a smile. I'm all but overwhelmed with love for him when I spy the dim green lighting of a digital clock behind him, reading 7:30am… the time I usually _leave_ the house for work.

"_Shit._" I vault out of bed after the loud cuss and straight to the wardrobe in order to get dressed.

"Cas..?" Dean says sleepily. I risk a second to look at him, propped up on one elbow and rubbing his eyes.

"Crap, I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry. I'm late." I'm back to rummaging through the wardrobe to find _anything _that looks smart.

"That's my fault," he grimaces. "Sorry, there was a power cut yesterday and I forgot to reset the alarm."

"Not to worry, I can still get there roughly on time. Why don't we organise our clothes better?"

"'Cos there's more fun stuff to do? Isn't it Friday?"

"Yes! Dress-down Friday; has anything better ever been invented?"

He chuckles, and I grab the first shirt my hands come across and pull it off the hanger. Underwear's easily grabbed, and I remember putting my jeans to the very right of the wardrobe, so that's easily done, too. I'm dressed within a minute, and Dean's up to kiss me a very quick goodbye.

"Sex hair," he says, and pats it down in lieu of any regular term of goodbye.

I accept his kiss with an eyeroll and immediately move towards shoes. "Thanks, I love you, too."

"Ah yeah, there's that too."

"Sleep well!" I call as I'm walking out the door, with only a slightly bitter undertone.

###

Entering the house again, I choose a less commonly known greeting: "everyone thinks I love Led Zeppelin."

Dean's laugh bounces towards me, and my mood brightens a little.

Okay; wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt isn't exactly the worst thing to happen to me. I can handle people who don't really know me making comments like 'oh, Castiel, I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin!' or 'not your usual style, Castiel' with a cute, joking wink. I'm not keen on them, no, but I can handle that.

However, I would not have had to handle it if Dean had mentioned _what_ shirt I was wearing this morning instead of merely telling me I had 'sex hair'. So that deserves some gentle ribbing.

"You could have just told them you're not a fan."

"I hear enough stories from you about people who aren't 'real fans', I don't want myself considered among their ranks." I say drily.

"Ah well, you should've said it's your boyfriend's shirt…" he grins at the grimace on my face at the thought of giving _any _of those people information about my life. They're gossipers. "You could've also looked at what shirt you were putting on this morning." His innocent tone doesn't fool me a bit.

"Oh no," I jab a finger into his chest. "You were willing to sort out my 'sex hair', you could have easily informed me that I was wearing a _Led Zeppelin _shirt instead of giving in to your _fetish_."

"It's hardly a _fetish_…" I raise an eyebrow. "A little bit of a fetish?"

"In any case," I say with a smile. "I have a way for you to make it up for me. I'm picking what you wear to that newspaper meeting thing tonight."

He doesn't seem to care, still grinning. "Okay, but I need to dress at least a _little _smart."

"Of course, I wouldn't want to embarrass you." I blink innocently.

"Sure, man, whatever you say. But you have to wear the shirt, too."

"Then we have a deal."

"That we do."

###

"I didn't even know you owned this shirt." It's a subdued black, but that's all that's subdued about it. It has a dinosaur on a rocket with the words 'nothing is unpossible'. Couple that with the fact that the shirt was small on me when I first received it, and Dean is both taller and more muscular than I am, and you get the picture – he looks a bit ridiculous. I let him pick the rest of the outfit, because I am a kind man indeed.

"It was a gift."

"Some gift."

"I think it was supposed to be a joke."

"I don't think I could look gayer if I tried."

"You _are _turning up with a man as your date."

"Yeah, forgot that. Are you sure you're a man?"

"Pretty sure, Dean." I roll my eyes. "I used to not believe in dinosaurs, my sister thought this was in good taste."

"Or she wanted you to lose any friends you had."

"That is also possible."

"You realise this is the first time I'm meeting these people, right?"

"You should have thought about that before you let your fetish blind you." I grin, and he grins back.

###

Dean spends the evening clutching my hand in his as tight as he can. He ignores people's glances at his chest, and to the one person who questions the too-tight shirt, he merely replies 'my boyfriend has a fetish for seeing my in his clothes'; which is poor recompense for my answering questions about Led Zeppelin as though I am a fan (not difficult, given how much Dean talks about them).

When we lose the shirts later that night, though, neither of us complain.


	7. (i know a lot about) unrequited

**so I finished writing this one roughly 24 hours ago. I don't know**

**I have my first exam tomorrow, one on wednesday, and one on thursday so i'm (panicking a lot) getting ahead on these**

**unless I die, you're getting updates!**

* * *

**ASK DEAN**

_The Lawrence Times_' newest writer, Dean Winchester, has taken on the advice column. Here's a short introduction from him, followed by his first answer to a question!

_Hey, guys. You've already seen this, but my name's Dean Winchester. I'm an aquarius; I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky women. I'm also in a pretty committed relationship with a man, so maybe you shouldn't take any of that to heart._

_I love working on cars, and one of my biggest achievements to date is building up a 1967 Chevy Impala from a wreckage my uncle rescued her from. Throughout my schooling career, I was most told off for starting fights. My friends tell me the trait I should be most proud of is how good I am at helping them with their problems. Which, I guess, is why I've got this job. I'm gonna make your problems my problems until they're not problems any more. _

_Here we go._

**Dear Dean,**

**I know this is the sort of question that usually gets asked in teen magazines, but their advice is always cliché and it's never worked for me. There's also that you're a guy, so I'm figuring you may be able to answer better.**

**I've been in love with a guy for a few years now. He's like my best friend. Problem is, I'm shy, and I don't want to ruin our friendship by telling him I'm in love with him and taking the chance that he won't like me back.**

**So I'm asking two things: firstly, how do I figure out if he loves me too? And secondly, how do I get him to if he doesn't?**

**Thanks! - ****_Not A Teen Magazine_**

_Hey, thanks for asking me!_

_Okay, I've never been a huge expert in this field, but I'll tell you one thing – most guys experience at least some attraction to anyone of their preferred gender. This means they'll look for any signs of interest, same as any the stereotypes of teen girls do. _

_Yeah, my first point is that the stereotypes are _not real_. _

_Most of what you do depends on who he is as a person. I can say this, though: he'll either believe everyone is in love with him, or he'll believe no one is in love with him. Either way, you'll need to be pretty overt about your interest to make him clear on it._

_There's no two ways about it; if you admit your love to him and he doesn't reciprocate, it'll be weird. At the same time, 'subtle' isn't a thing that ever seems to work – with girls or guys._

_You can try, though. Do some slightly out-of-character flirting just to gauge his reaction. If he flirts back even a little, you can be sure of at least some attraction there. You know the paranoia you'd feel around anyone you suspect likes you in a way you don't? Guys get that, too, so if they flirt back they don't have that paranoia, so they wouldn't mind if you like them…_

_If he doesn't like you, there's nothing you can do to make him like you without changing yourself. _Don't ever change._ He's not worth it. You'll find someone who's better for you. This I can guarantee from personal experience._

_Hope I could help! – Dean._

###

**You seem pretty well-versed in the woes of unrequited love. – C**

**what can i say, my crush was pretty much a dumbass for like 6 yrs – d**

**I can't imagine why you didn't include advice such as 'gaze longingly at him for 6 years, then get heavily intoxicated and kiss him before crying about unrequited love. Then you realise that he's been staring longingly back at you for at least 5 years and collect your 'dumbass' award from our offices, we've kept them around for people like you' – C**

**i cant believe ur still bitter – d**

**u could have just made a move urself – d**

**What? I thought you were the masculine one in this relationship? – C**

**Of course, I would be happy to claim the title if you don't want it… – C**

**u have no grasp of flirting & u had less then. how the fuck was i supposed to know? – d**

**I believe you just gave advice to 'Not-A-Teen-Magazine' fairly eloquently. – C**

**u wouldnt have flirted back. no. grasp. of. flirting. do u hear me yet? – d**

**No. We're texting. – C**

**i hate u – d**

**I love you, too. - C**

* * *

**okay, i'm experimenting with 'easier' styles of writing. let me know what you think?**

**and to any guests who review/have reviewed: i love you loads and it saddens me i can't reply to you3**


	8. (we don't even need to go) shopping

"What do you need?"

"I dunno, you're the expert."

"I am not an expert on babies' needs! You are the one who practically raised their younger sibling."

"Yeah, but never when he was a _baby_. I was a toddler then, there was only so much I could understand."

"I was the youngest sibling, Dean, you have a better idea than I do. Need I remind you that _you_ are the one who is supposed to be doing this shopping?"

"You agreed to do it! Jess is practically your sister, too."

"I'm not the one she called…"

"You're the responsible one, though; you know when we babysit Garth and Jo you refuse to even let me near…"

"Yes, so surely equal division of labour means _you _should be doing the shopping?"

"I'd like to think of it more that you take on the labour you choose, and we divide the rest equally. This is part of the rest."

"And what parts have you taken?"

"Test tasting."

"You'll regret that choice."

"Nah."

"Dean."

"Cas."

"You're the one with internet access."

"Ah… that's a good point."

"I can walk you through search engine use, if you like."

"I think I can handle it."

"I wouldn't want you to get confused. And hurry up; people are starting to think I'm a paedophile."

"I still don't understand why you wear that coat."

"I don't understand why you wear your father's clothes more than your own."

"I thought you said I wore other people's clothes because of my fe- I'm not going to finish that sentence."

"Actually, I said you liked other people in your clothes, but we'll count that as a Freudian slip."

"I hate you."

"Freud always believed that children had repressed sexual desires for their opposite sex parent. I suppose you'd count as a girl, though."

"Do you want to know what you buy or do you want me to hang up?"

"Would you rather tell me or just have me buy one of everything and waste your pay check?"

"You're really on a roll today."

"I'm having a good day."

"After hearing Sammy and Jess would rather dump a new born baby on us than cancel their holiday?"

"They did not know they would be having a baby shortly before departing when booking, and it was never going to be a family friendly holiday."

"Yeah, but a _baby_? Plus, there are ways of preventing babies from happening."

"The only fully effective method of preventing pregnancy occurring from intercourse is homosexual sex."

"I'm not so sure, we're getting a baby. Did you cheat on me?"

"Tell me what I need to get."

"All the sites seem to say something different. Can't we just steal the stuff off Sam and Jess before they leave? Hey, and why are we buying this stuff 7 months before we need it?"

"I'm sure we have the money now, we may not closer to the time. Jess said there was some things they couldn't give us, weren't you listening?"

"What couldn't they give us?"

"… weren't you listening?"

"No, so tell me… unless you weren't listening, either?"

"Stop with the smug silence."

"You've been smug this whole conversation, it's time for me to get my own back!"

"I give up. I'm coming home."

"We'll call Jess later, see if we actually need to get anything other than _food_. Which we can't buy 7 months in advance."

"Shut up."


	9. hanging out with friends(' kids)

It's the weekend, and the day is shaping up to have an unusually clear sky and _warm _sunbeams. Thus, I decide that Dean and I are going on a walk.

He's not amazingly keen on the idea. In fact, he hisses as we step out of the door and the sunlight hits his eyes. Instead of replying, I knock his sunglasses off the top of his head so they cover his eyes and start walking. As our hands are attached, this means he comes with me.

He doesn't mind, really. He loves how he looks when he's 'sun-kissed'. When he saw the sun shining through the window this morning, he put on the shirt with the shortest sleeves on (which happens to be mine) and a pair of shirts. I don't really believe his plan was to stay inside all day.

He'll probably mow the lawn shirtless later. It's his masculine way of tanning.

It's quite nice to just walk. We catch up on what we've missed over the working week; Dean mostly informs me of what happens in the news. We both like to know what's going on, but he's the one who gets the opportunity to watch whilst working, and I can see what happens in his working hours for myself. I do get to hear about a few funny Dear Dean letters that don't make it in, however; like one girl who just asked 'how do I get Dear Dean to marry me?'

When we walk past the park, though, I hear a voice calling my name. "Castiel!"

Just the sound of the 3-syllabled version of my name is enough to inform me that this will not be worth my time, but Dean turns knitted eyebrows towards the woman, so I must follow suit. "Hello, Naomi." I call over and wave, hoping that if I keep walking she will not call me over. I tell Dean quietly that she is one of my colleagues, and he nods, continuing with my plan – knowing full well my lack of fond feelings for my coworkers.

She waves us over. I am not impolite enough to ignore her. Dean squeezes my hand in a gesture of apology. I squeeze his back to tell him I'm all right, that it's not his fault. We drop hands before walking over to Naomi; if she's seen us already, then she probably knows – but Dean and I both know just how little I want anyone in my workplace to know of my personal life.

"It's good to see you outside of work!" She embraces me in an uncomfortable hug. I refuse to reciprocate, and she pulls back quickly, looking towards the climbing frame. "I've told you about my children, right? Alfie and Nathaniel."

"I believe so." I don't remember any such conversation, but I smile in their direction regardless.

Dean looks at Naomi's well-put-together outfit and her tidy hair, then walks at a rapid pace to the boys. "Is that a Superman backpack?"

"Is… he okay?" Naomi asks me.

"Yes! He's my favourite superhero."

"What?! Not Batman?"

"Yes." I pause, before realising I have not done introductions. "He's Dean."

"Okay." She pauses, waiting for some elaboration. "You've never talked about a Dean."

"No, he's Alfie's favourite though!"

"Yeah! Right on, Alfie."

I shrug. "I don't talk about everything."

She laughs a little. "You don't talk about much, actually. I'd love to get in that head of yours." Her blue eyes are fixed on mine, and I understand why Dean hated my staring at the beginning of our relationship. I shift my eyes to Dean and the boys.

I laugh awkwardly. "Many have tried."

"I _told _you Batman was better!"

"Hey guys, if I let you in on a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone?" _Yeah, and he was complaining about babysitting._

"Tell us!"

"And how many have succeeded?"

"Very few."

"Only after you promise."

"We promise!"

Dean leans in towards the boys, and gestures that they should hold their ears out. I don't need to hear what he whispers, because I know there is only one possible thing he could be saying here. _I'm Batman._

"Does Dean have children?"

"No, but his brother does. He's their go-to babysitter because he doesn't charge."

"No way!"

"Yeah way! Look, I can prove it!" He moves over to the climbing frame.

"Ah. He just seems pretty good with the boys. He may have to be my babysitter, too."

"I'm fairly certain the only reason he doesn't charge is because his brother's wife would rescind all pie rights otherwise."

"I can make pretty good pie."

He jumps up onto one of the bars and hangs upside down from his knees, _yes, Dean, remarkably like Batman._ "Wow!"

Naomi's eyes widen.

"He's pretty picky about his pie. If you'll excuse me a minute, Dean will want a picture of this so he can send it to his brother."

"Uh… of course."

Dean grins at me as I advance, getting up the camera app on my phone.

"Shall we play a game? See how long you can stay up there without your knees giving out?"

"Oh, you're on!"

"Your face is going really red."

"That's what happens when gravity is pushing blood in the opposite direction of the way it is supposed to go."

"Can we do the Batman pose too?!"

"No, guys, it's a really long drop if you fall."

"But _he's _doing it!"

"He's a big boy, the drop isn't so far."

The camera snaps, and I decide I'll try the pose myself. "Naomi? Would you mind holding on to my phone?"

"Sure."

"And if I do manage to do the pose properly, would you mind taking a picture of the both of us?"

"I can do that."

"Thank you."

I stretch out my arms, because grabbing hold of the bar will probably be the most strenuous part of this. Then I jump up and hold on for dear life.

"How did you do this?!" Dean laughs, and I manage – _somehow _– to swing my legs over the top and get into the pose. It knocks all of the breath out of me, though. "I'm going to fall."

"Breathe, Cas. You just need to last a couple of seconds." Dean's laughter doesn't help. I hear the click, and I know what Naomi captured is my glare and Dean's laugh, and we have an awful lot of pictures like that.

"Dean. Smile for the camera." I grin cheesily to another click, before Dean yells:

"Wait!"

"What, Dean?"

"Alfie, Nathaniel?"

"Yeah?"

"I bet if you guys do headstands or handstands on the ground there, on the picture it'll look like you're flying and holding the air up."

They gasp a bit, and I would pat Dean on the back if I wasn't so afraid of overbalancing one way or the other.

Naomi doesn't complain at this suggestion; in fact, I think she smiles a little bit. It's hard to tell whilst upside down, though.

When the boys are in position – kind of – Naomi tells us to smile, and takes a few shots – I'm sure the boys are just in various degrees of falling over.

"Um, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"How are we supposed to get down?" I stop for half of a second. "Without causing possible head injury."

"You're no fun. Reverse getting up."

"I feel a bit weak for that."

"Ah, all part of the fun!" He swings up… and misses.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up."

I work up some momentum, and manage to get my hands solidly on the bar. I'm grateful for my natural flexibility, though, because this is not comfortable and my legs seem unwilling to move.

"Stuck?"

"No."

With a pull, they come free, and I drop down.

"Need some help?"

"No." He means yes, so I pull his arms up and push his legs down, before giving him an innocent smile. "I hate you."

I shake my arms a little before retrieving my phone from Naomi. "Thank you, but we ought to be going."

"Of course. Thanks for entertaining the boys, even for just a little while. They'll be able to tell all of their friends that they met Batman this weekend."

"That's all right. Dean loves every opportunity to show off his abs."

* * *

**i've written up to 12. i only planned to write tomorrow's so if i failed chemistry and couldn't do anything for crying it would be okay. oops.**


	10. with (the goddamn) animal ears

"I am not dressing up."

"But it's Halloween!"

"We don't have any different plans than usual."

"Yeah, but we'll have trick-or-treaters!"

"So you can get dressed up and answer the door."

"It's boring to get dressed up on your own."

"Then don't."

"But the trick-or-treaters!"

"Will have seen worse. I used to be one of the trick-or-treaters. I know."

"Please?"

"You know I'm immune to the pout."

"You're not even looking, how do you know I'm doing the pout?"

"How long have I known you?"

"Good point."

"…"

"Cas."

"Dean."

"Wear the goddamn cat ears."

"No."

"Wear them."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?"

"It's _Halloween._"

"I don't care."

"I feel like you just trampled my baby."

"I just don't like Halloween, Dean."

"Okay, but wear the cat ears."

"I'd rather not."

"Please?"

"I am not a cat."

"That's why I bought ears for you."

"No."

"I even made sure I got them in the right size! You know, with your big head."

"I appreciate the thought involved. No."

"You're the most cat-like person I know."

"What a compliment."

"You'd look really cute."

"I am a grown man, I have no desire to look 'cute'."

"Fine, I'll put them on _for _you."

"Get your hands away from me!"

"No!"

"Unhand me, foul beast!"

"What?"

"It's a quote from… something. Gabe likes it."

"Right."

"Leave me _alone_."

"Not until you wear the cat ears."

"…"

"…"

"Fine, I'll wear them."

"Really?"

"No."

"You're awful to me."

"What ears are you wearing?"

"Panda ears."

"What?"

"I'm a panda."

"Pandas obstinately refuse to mate."

"I'm a panda for _tonight_."

"Really?"

"Yeah, 'cos you refuse to wear the cat ears."

"Do I have another fetish to be worried about?"

"Shut up."

"I don't think pandas mate with cats in real life."

"Yeah, pandas 'obstinately refuse to mate'."

"I don't think either pandas or cats hold any desire for the other species whatsoever in real life."

"Then they've never seen me as a panda."

"I hardly think that will change their desires."

"I'm wounded."

"You still look remarkably human-like."

"Well yeah, I was gonna get you to paint my face, but you're being a killjoy."

"We don't even _have_ facepaints."

"Yeah we do!"

"Since _when_?"

"Since I bought the ears, of course."

"Why are you being so obstinate this year?"

"What do you mean? I love Halloween."

"You look shifty. We didn't do anything last year and you didn't complain."

"You distracted me!"

"Regardless, you had no pre-prepared costumes last year."

"…"

"…"

"If you put the ears on now, I won't force you to have whiskers."

"I'm not wearing the ears, and even if I did, I wouldn't want to wear them without the whiskers; that would be stupid."

"You're impossible."

"No, merely highly improbable."

"Wear the ears."

"It's not even 5pm! No!"

"It's never too early for Halloween to start."

"That's a faulty argument if ever I heard one."

"Whilst on the 31st of October, it's never too early for Halloween to start!"

"I'm not wearing the ears."

"Okay, what do I need to bribe you with?"

"Who did you bet you could get me into a costume?"

"What? I wouldn't bet on this. I know you're stubborn."

"Then why are you even attempting it?"

"I'm more stubborn?"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Of course. Hey, don't scoff. Wear the ears."

"No."

"I'll give you the last slice of pie?"

"You're the one who likes pie here."

"You like it, too."

"You like it more, though."

"Well yeah, so me offering you the pie is a really worthy sacrifice, and you should wear the ears."

"I wouldn't dare deprive you of pie."

"I'll make dinner for a week."

"I'd rather not die from food poisoning."

"That was uncalled for. I make great burgers."

"We can't eat burgers for a week."

"I've done it before."

"I know, Dean."

"Don't touch the pudge. You know how I feel about that."

"You know how I feel about the cat ears."

"I'll let you watch what you want on TV for a week."

"I don't care about TV."

"I'll let you choose the music when we go out for a month."

"How often do we go out in the Impala in a month?"

"You're testing the limits of my creativity here."

"Get more generous, then you may stand a chance."

"Not a solid no!"

"It's pretty unlikely."

"Not solid!"

"Yes, dear."

"What if I just promise to make it worth your while?"

"Your terms of 'worth my while' and mine may differ."

"If you reject it, then you're definitely missing out."

"I'm sure I'll cope."

"If you don't accept, I'll start withholding things instead of offering incentives."

"I think I have more to withhold."

"Are you threatening to withhold things from me if I start withholding?"

"I may be."

"That's just rude."

"So is this entire conversation."

"What?"

"I have expressed my desire not to wear the cat ears, and yet you're forcing them on me."

"…"

"…"

"Please?"

"Fuck you."

"That was more rude."

"…"

"…"

"Oh, fine; I'll wear them."

"Really?"

"_Yes_."

"For more than a minute?"

"I think the whiskers will take longer than that to put on and take off."

"Until I agree the evening is over."

"With a limit of midnight."

"Deal!"

"If you take any pictures, I will throw a Molotov cocktail at you."

"How would you make one?"

"The internet is a wonderful place, darling."

"What's with the pet names?"

"I'm feeling the condescending air."

"Okay, I don't care; you're wearing the ears! Now paint my face."

"You're impossible."

"Aw, I love you too."

* * *

**have y'all noticed these are getting longer again? especially since this one's pure dialogue, you should be really proud**


	11. (enamoured by) babies

"Are you sure you guys don't mind looking after the kids? We don't have to go…" Jess seems reluctant to leave the tiny Ben with us, having almost forgotten Garth and Jo already.

I'm kidding, of course.

"Go, Jess. Enjoy yourself. You deserve a break." I say with a smile; Dean is far too enamoured with the little boy to realise anyone else is still in the room.

"We owe you hugely for this, you know that right? I'll bake you pies when we get back." She smiles a little, seemingly knowing she'll miss the kids.

"Dean's already very grateful. Now trust us, and have fun."

She wraps me in a quick but solid hug, "of course. Have a good week, and _thank you_."

"It's our pleasure." She manages to get Dean out of his baby-induced stupor long enough to say goodbye, we wave to Sam and then we've got 3 kids suddenly.

"Congratulations. He's a boy." Dean grins at me. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Okay, but tell me if I'm doing it wrong – it's been a few years."

The light weight of Ben is surprisingly reassuring, if still terrifying. He seems complacent now, and I know we should be extremely grateful he seems to like us. It would be a loud week otherwise.

"Can I have him back?"

"Of course, Dean." I roll my eyes, _ and he was the one who wasn't keen on this._

"I want one."

"See if you're saying that tomorrow morning."

"Let me revel in my joy whilst I still can."

I mime zipping my mouth. "Hey, Garth, Jo; do you want me to show you your room? Do you need me to carry your bags, or are you guys strong enough? Let me know if you need some help, they look heavy."

When I come back, having left Garth and Jo to unpack a little (I've been told to trust them for the most part, but check on them fairly often… and _not_ to let them choose what to eat, ever. They like to only choose things the other dislikes, regardless of whether _they _like the food or not), Dean is still cooing over Ben.

"You're going to spoil him."

"That's what uncles are for."

"He's only a couple of months old, you'll regret spoiling him this early."

"I think I can handle it for a week."

"What about me?"

He looks at me for a long second, then back to Ben. "You can stay with Gabe. Or we have keys to Sam's."

"You'd give up the only chance of help in looking after _three _kids just because you want to spoil a baby?"

"Yeah, sounds about right."

"I love you, too, Dean."

"I know you do."

* * *

**okay, this was really difficult, because the only experience I have with kids anywhere younger than me is 12-13 year old autistic kids. Which isn't very close. So I kept it short. Forgive me...**


	12. making out (like it's worse than it is)

**DEAR DEAN**

_Thanks for all the questions, guys, and I hope I've helped! – Dean_

**Dear Dean,**

**I read in your first column that your biggest achievement is your car… but my biggest problem is my boyfriend's obsession with his car. It feels like whenever I call or text him, all he replies with is that he's working on his car and he can't talk then.**

**At first, I thought he was cheating on me. But then I went by his house to talk to him, and he really was working on his car! Every time I go by, he is working on his car. I kind of can't believe it.**

**What do I do? – ****_Second Best to Machinery_**

_First off, don't call yourself second best – unless you think you're not as important as the car, in which case we have other issues to address._

_As you've said above, I know what it feels like to have a strong attachment to a car. Building up my Impala took a great many hours, and I know that the whole time I was working on her (despite enjoying the work) I wanted her to be done so I could drive in her. It's a strong feeling, and yes, it can make you want to continue working all the time._

_That is _not _a good idea._

_I had to make sure I'd spend time away from her – talk to my brother on the phone, go out for dinner, read a book, anything – because the work can get frustrating. Also, as it's manual labour, you can get pretty sore and tired, and I pride myself on my physique (sometimes). That's not advice for you, though, that's more advice for your boyfriend. You may not want to lecture him on that, though; I don't think he'd be keen to hear it. You'd do good to force him away every so often – that's what my boyfriend had to do a lot of the time. _

_If you can't force him away, then he may not like you as much as you like him. I'm sorry to say it, but as far as I know, it's the truth. As much as I love my baby, a glare from my boyfriend was enough to get me away for her and getting ready for dinner – she won't get annoyed at me for rejecting her, at the _very _least._

_The best advice I can give you is to force him to talk to you. Go over to his, and tell him very definitely that you've got to talk. Cross your arms, give him a no-nonsense tone, and do not let him say no. If he absolutely refuses, then you've already got your answer – he doesn't care enough about you. Break up with him. If you can get him away from the car, then you're already winning. You can soften a bit here; you don't want to drive him away by acting awful – no matter how awful he's been to you, he can still fix it. Tell him that you feel like he's been distant lately and that, whilst you understand his desire to fix the car (you can compliment his efforts, if you like), you aren't willing to be second to an inanimate object. If he doesn't agree to go out with you sometime that week after that, then I'd say he's not worth it – but it's your call._

_Don't take it from him, but this isn't a black-and-white subject – do give him a few chances. Don't do it at the consequence of your happiness, though. _

_Good luck! – Dean_

###

**I love it when you talk about cars. – C**

**u didnt used to – d**

**Not when you talked about it all the time. – C**

**my point exactly – d**

**Aha, I knew you were still bitter over that! – C**

**im not bitter, wat am i bitter about? – d**

**what* i didnt do that on purpose dont tell me off – d**

**I wouldn't dare. You're still bitter that I refused to talk to you for an hour. An hour, Dean. – C**

**i dont even remember that – d**

**Of course you don't. – C**

**i just wanted to share my happiness w/ the 1 person i love most, is that so wrong? – d**

**Not when you do it occasionally. It is, however, a problem when it's all you talk about – C**

**then ignoring me for an hour would do no good, would it? – d**

**You managed to ask me about my work after the hour. I would say it worked. – C**

**why did u even bring this up? do u want us to fight? – d**

**I don't think we're fighting, are we? I just wanted to see if you were as truly grateful to me as your column seems to suggest you are – C**

**of course i am. at least now. i wasnt then, but can u blame me for that? – d**

**Yes. – C**

**shut up, u know i love u – d**

**Doesn't count. – C**

**fuck u. I love you. – d**

**I'll see you later tonight, you can keep that promise. - C**

* * *

**I'm not keen on this one, and it only really barely fits the title - even how I've twisted. Shh, the rest fit better.**

**Dear guest who says I'm good at fluff: that's all I really feel comfortable writing, so I should hope so. With that in mind, chapter 14 (what I've basically just finished writing) is just about the least fluffy thing I've written. I wasn't trying to. Oops.**


	13. (why are we) eating ice cream

Before I can greet Dean, he points to the bedroom and says 'get changed'. I take off my shoes and coat before going towards the bedroom.

"What do I wear?"

"Jeans and a shirt, I dunno, casual stuff."

"Why?"

"We're going to get ice cream."

"Why?"

"We're celebrating."

"What?"

"Um… being happy about something."

"No, celebrating what?"

Silence. A breath. "An anniversary."

"Of what?"

"The conception of your idiocy." Friendly tone.

"Hard to celebrate an event that hasn't occurred."

"Good thing it has, then."

I walk out of the bedroom, changed. Dean looks me up and down, before meeting my eyes, an expectant look on his face.

"Shall we go?" I ask him.

Small smile. "Yeah, okay." He jingles the keys in his hand, and turns around to leave the house. I smirk and roll my eyes at his back.

###

"What can I get for you guys?"

"I'll have whatever he's having," I say, gesturing towards Dean. He casts me momentary, slightly suspicious glance, but orders as normal. Before he opens his mouth, I start conversation. "Is this in lieu of dinner, or merely a pre-dinner snack?"

"It can be either, but I'm thinking ice cream for dinner sounds great." He licks his lips, still a wary glint to his eyes.

I laugh. "While this cold outside?"

"But it's warm _in_side."

"You make a compelling point. Ice cream for dinner it is."

He grins at me. "I don't think one bowl each is gonna be enough for a full meal."

I groan. "We're going to get diabetes before the time we're forty."

"And it'll be a really fun journey." His grin is turned to the waitress as she returns with our dinner, and she seems a little flustered.

His grin can do that to a person. I'd like to say I'm immune, but I'm not – I've merely learned to cope with how consistently attractive my boyfriend is. I'm not as gifted as he in that department, but he tells me my flasher coat works wonders for me. I'm pretty sure he's being sarcastic.

I realise I'm staring at him adoringly whilst my ice cream is melting. "Why don't you tell me when I start staring?" I grumble.

He looks up, wide-eyed. "You were staring?" I give him a look, and he swallows before continuing. "I dunno, man. It's like your natural state. I don't even notice any more."

"You didn't notice I was letting my ice cream melt?"

"I was a bit preoccupied with not letting my own ice cream melt. I'd have gotten there." He waves a spoon at me. "But that's not the way to respect ice cream, Cas. Have I taught you nothing?"

"You have taught me how to subvert attention from the matter at hand with offhanded compliments. Would you like me to show you?"

He narrows his eyes. "I think you just did."

"I'm glad you noticed." I smile.

"So have you remembered yet?"

"Remember what?"

"What we're celebrating."

I pause, then I smile at Dean. "This is really good ice cream, I'm glad you took me here tonight."

He smiles with half off his mouth. "You're not funny."

"But I learnt from you."

"Says something about me, then, doesn't it? You're ordering our next bowls." He hands me the menu.

"There's too much choice!"

"Man up, trenchcoat."

"Now you're calling me an item of clothing I'm not even wearing."

"Why aren't you wearing it? You're always wearing it."

"You rushed me. Plus, it's warm _in_side."

"I hate you and your memory for things I say."

"You make it sound so creepy."

"It kind of is."

"I love you, too." The waitress appears, and asks if we want to pay. "No. Could you bring us each a bowl of a random ice cream? Something you like." I smile. She blinks twice, nods jerkily, and walks off again.

"Okay, you cheated."

"What?"

"Firstly, you _didn't choose_. I told you to choose." He pouts. I roll my eyes. "Plus, you flirted with the girl to bring us stuff!"

"No, I didn't."

"Really."

"Really!"

"I told you that you don't know what flirting is!"

"I hardly think smiling at a girl constitutes flirting."

"So her reaction didn't tell you that she thought you were flirting?"

"No, it told me my request wasn't a common one."

"You flirted with someone whilst on a date with me. I'm wounded." He clasps a hand over his heart.

"Are you sure we're not celebrating the anniversary of the conception of _your _idiocy? Because if we are, I don't think we should be celebrating such an old holiday."

"That hurts." He can't clasp his heart, because he already is. Small victories make life worth living.

The waitress returns, and she flushes when she smiles at me. Since she smiles at me second, it's unmistakeable that she seems to believe I hold an interest in her. "Thank you." I make an (easy) effort to gaze at Dean, instead. His eyes tell me that he knows I've figured it out, and he's smug.

The waitress almost walks into a table when she leaves us.

"Shut up."

"I said nothing."

We eat our ice cream quickly, and in companionable silence. We talk with eye contact and smiles, both obstinately refusing to start conversation. I don't think I mind.

"Aw, fuck. I always get sticky hands after ice cream."

I roll my eyes. "Go wash them, I'll pay and meet you at the car."

"Okay. Hey, here; take the keys. You'll have to get them yourself, though; sticky hands." His grin is salacious, "they're in my front pocket."

I grab the keys with an eye roll from his tight jean pocket. "You're a teenager."

He waggles his eyebrows. "At least I'm legal."

"Wash. Your. Hands."

"Yes, sir." He winks and goes.

When he meets me in the Impala, I'm sitting in the driver's seat. "What are you doing, Cas?" He's wary, but his tone isn't quite as dangerous as I've heard it when others have suggested driving his baby. Boyfriend perks.

"I'm driving. Get in."

"Are we going shopping?"

I tilt my head.

"You don't get… no, of course you don't. Fine. You know the drill, any scratches and consider yourself castrated, etc."

"That seems as though it work against your welfare."

He narrows his eyes. "Are you suggesting sex is an integral part of my welfare?"

"Yes."

"Carry on."

I nod, and I start the engine.

"Where are we going?"

"We're celebrating."

"I don't like your sarcasm. I shouldn't have taught it to you."

"I was aware of sarcasm before you."

"But you didn't use it."

"I may well have adopted it without your influence."

"Less likely, though."

"I knew Sam before I knew you."

"Relatively likely. Where are we going?"

"Celebrating, Dean, as you told me."

"I don't like feeling out of control in my own car." He sinks deeper into his seat, seemingly sulking.

"It won't be that long."

"Don't condescend me."

"Okay, now I _know _you're pouting."

When we pull up at a park, Dean is confused for a second. In that second, I'm out of the car and getting a bag out of the back. I try to hide the smirk.

When he figures it out, he gets out of the Impala quicker than I did. "You're a dick." He punches my arm, but it doesn't leave even a dull ache.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You knew _all along_."

"How could you think I'd forget the anniversary of our first date?"

"You pulled it off."

"And you tell me I can't lie. Dean, I'm wearing the _same outfit_. I made you order for me. I didn't wear the coat. How obvious did I have to make it?"

"Maybe saying you remembered? That's what normal people would do. And how did you get this in Baby without me noticing?"

"I took it with me to work this morning – you're never properly conscious when I leave – and when I got home, I put the bag in the back before I came inside. Regardless of whether you had plans, I was taking you out today."

"You told me stargazing was a cliché first date thing to do."

"You started the date with burgers. I never thought a little bit of a cliché was a bad thing."

He smiles at me as we walk over to the skateboard ramps no one use. "I still don't understand why you couldn't just tell me."

"That would be boring."

"Instead you thought you'd slowly break my heart."

"Only to put it back together." I say dramatically as he spreads the blanket over the ramp; we have a slope to lean against and a blanket to protect us from cold metal. We are ready to stargaze.

"You're an idiot and I love you."

"I love you, too."


	14. gender-swapped (aka you're not Dean)

**uploading this early because i don't know if i'll be up to even looking at a computer screen later today. hopefully i'll get better by the time my reserves of pre-written chapters are out. enjoy**

* * *

I wake up on my side, to the weird sensation of my chest being heavier than I'm used to. I sit up quickly, hoping that it's something on my chest I can dislodge. I spring up way faster than I'm used to, because the _rest_ of my body is _lighter_. Except my head. My head and chest are heavy, the rest of me is light.

_Sam always said Dean liked to prank him. Maybe… maybe he's done something to me._ "Dean?" My voice – the one oft described in comparison with _gravel_ – sounds shrill. High-pitched and _shrill_. "Dean?!"

He usually wakes up when I first say his name. I turn around quickly – too quickly, the light weight is really disorienting – and touch his arm to wake him up. His arm is soft, and I small enough that my hand would wrap around it. _What is going on!?_ I pull my hand quickly, but green eyes blearily blink open. _At least, I'm assuming they're green. If his arms have changed…_

He leans on his arms – but, no. That's not quite accurate. _She _leans on _her _arms, and flicks _her _hair out of _her _face. "You haven't called me 'Dean' in years. It's 'Di', I've told you. You're not Sam. Fuck off with the boy nickname."

"Di?"

"Short for Diana. You know this."

"Your name is Diana."

"Has been since I was born. Did you have some fucked up dream again, Cas?"

"My name is still Cas?"

"Yeah, you had a crazy dream again. Short for Cassandra."

"No, that was your high school girlfriend's name."

"Oh, God, did you dream we were in high school again? No wonder you're acting so weird."

"I… I'm male."

She laughs, and it's nice, but it isn't _Dean's _laugh. "Oh, no you're not. Would you like me to prove it?" Hands stray, and they're too soft. My skin feels more sensitive than ever before.

I close my eyes, tight. I can't handle this.

"Okay, or not. I know I'm the insatiable one, but you don't need to act quite so repulsed." She's still here. _What is happening? _"You know what? How about we just go back to sleep? That always works. Come here, you know I can't sleep without a nice cuddle." I hear her rustle back into the duvet, and her hand lightly glides down my side – my naked side. _Wow, this would be heaven for _anyone but me.

Sleep sounds good, though. Maybe if I go to sleep, I'll wake up, and everything will be back to normal.

I open my eyes carefully, and Dean's – _Diana's_ – green eyes are watching me expectantly. _I want to cuddle with Dean, not with you._ But I lean back into her arms in compliance; it can do me no harm.

Her soft body is no comfort to me, however, and I stay awake to the sound of her soft breathing for an unsuitably long time.

###

I wake up again, and the distribution of weight is still wrong. Instead of being shrill and confused, this time, I'm merely resigned. I sit up. All I can do is go along with it and hope for the best.

Going along with it, so far, is following the smell of bacon to the kitchen. After putting a large shirt on.

I recognise the shirt as belonging to Dean. I don't know how Diana and 'Cassandra' have it, and it's probably unhealthy to gravitate towards it, but I somehow find myself not caring.

Diana is cooking and singing along to the radio. The weird part? It's music that sounds suspiciously like _pop_. Dean would probably be happy that his female counterpart is 'hot' (at least by his standards, which I well know), but this would disgust him. She's also wearing only a large shirt, one of mine. I blink a couple of times, because this is _weird_.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Well, I should say afternoon, really." She grins.

"Uh… afternoon." I rub the back of my neck, slightly uncomfortable. In order to avoid looking at her, I look around at the room – surprisingly similar to the way Dean and I have it, but just a little more put-together; a few cushions on the sofa, a couple of pictures on the wall.

"Must have been some weird dream. It's really thrown you off, hasn't it?" Her eyes are sympathetic, and way more… _vocal _than Dean's ever have been.

I clutch my nose. It's a weird gesture, but it feels natural. "Uh… yeah. It was… really vivid."

Diana winces in sympathy. She knows what the nose-clutching means, even if I don't. Then she shrugs, "well, it's the weekend. We can do whatever you like." She turns around to the frying pan, throwing "but it better start with bacon" over her shoulder.

I smile. _That_'s Dean coming through, all right.

When we eat, Diana chooses the stool next to me, and our legs brush. She allows us to eat without conversation, only humming along to the music and flashing me brief smiles.

I feel waves of affection for her. This won't be so bad, as long as it's only short term.

I mean, she's great. But I simply have no attraction towards females. Cassandra clearly _should_, however, which could cause some trouble.

When we finish, Diana simply puts the plates by the sink and leans on the counter. I meet her eyes levelly, thinking all the while _Dean Dean Dean_ _that's what Dean does_.

Her eyes narrow. "Not even a glance at my tits. What the fuck did you dream about?"

The difficult question. "I… I dreamed I was a guy."

"Guys stare."

"A _gay _guy."

"And _that _part stuck? Fuck my life."

I shrug apologetically.

"No, sweetie, it's not your fault. We'll… deal with it as it comes, I don't know." She looks worried, and I really don't want her to.

Without any conscious decision, I'm off my stool and in front of her. I'm shorter than her, still, and it somehow bolsters my movement. I hold my hand to the side of her face, and she leans into it gratifyingly. "No. I… I still love you, despite… _gender_. Gender is practically transient, it seems." She smiles a little, but still she seems worried. "In the dream I was in love with a Dean. He loves bacon and puts the plates by the sink, too. And he has this shirt." I quirk a small smile, and stare into her eyes, _Dean_'s eyes. "He has to have got that from somewhere, right?"

She relaxes for a second, eyes closed, before pulling back. "You… shouldn't be comforting me, _I _should be comforting you. You were the one with the fucked up dream."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm the one who can handle it."

"We'll hold each other up." She smiles, and I can tell this is something she's said a lot – to… me. She wraps her arms around my waist, so I wrap mine about her neck.

It's all instinct; she somehow _feels _like Dean, even as much as she feels entirely alien.

It's like the feeling you get in dreams, how you know _instantly _who someone is, without ever seeing their face.

"Okay, I said we'd do what you want today, but we both know how crap you are at decisions, so I'm making the executive decision of movie marathon." She pulls back from me and heads toward the sofa. "Movie marathon means snuggling. You love movies, I love snuggling; we both win. Deal?"

"How could I say no?" The left side of my mouth twists into a wry smile.

She rolls her eyes with a grin – a very, very Dean grin. "There's the Cas I know and love."

That sentence makes me feel uncomfortable in ways I'd rather not think about.

I sit cross-legged on the sofa. This light, lithe body is fairly… it's rather like a _holiday_, actually; I'm pretty flexible for a man, but a thin woman is always going to be more so. I decide to enjoy what I can.

Diana puts in the film – I don't know which – and turns toward the sofa. "No, this isn't going to work. We can't snuggle in that position. I'll end up with a knee in my back."

I frown a little. Maybe I won't.

"Look, I know you think I have some _fetishes_ or whatever," she gestures to the shirt she's wearing, "but that ain't one of them. _Budge_."

I mechanically straighten out of my legs.

"Okay, this _Dean _wasn't a snuggler? I can teach you again, no big." She grins at the prospect, actually, and it's pretty terrifying.

_I don't like girls, Dean, protect me._

Dean can't hear me. I'm fucked.

She pulls my legs up onto the sofa, so I'm almost in foetal position. It's surprisingly comfortable, so I don't regret the loss of the crossed legs. "Put your left arm around your legs. They'll get weak otherwise." At my look, she expands. "I know guys don't sit like this, and I know _you_ do. Just trust me, all right?" I nod, placing my left arm around my legs. It feels… nice. She then pulls my right arm around her, and she lies down, so her back is against the line of my body.

I relax in one movement, and Diana notices. Her voice sounds smug when she says "bet your _Dean_ didn't do this, huh?"

"Are you… jealous of your male counterpart?" It's not my voice, but it has the same tone of amusement to it mine would have had.

"Maybe a little."

I open my mouth to tell her how stupid that is, but I can't force more than a shaky laugh out. All of a sudden, I _miss _Dean. He wouldn't admit to any level of jealousy, and maybe he wouldn't snuggle or teach me how to sit, and maybe he wouldn't cook for me or be quite so… cheerful, and stoic, as Diana is, and maybe she's more conventionally desirable or normal, but I really, really want my Dean. The pit of my stomach feels heavy with it.

My eyes feel wet in a way mine shouldn't. _I can handle this, I won't cry, I don't need to._

All of a sudden, I wonder what it will be like to never go back. I'll have to learn how to walk in this body, and probably in heels, too. I'll have to love girls, or at least Diana, and do so sexually, because I already know she's too similar to Dean and I can't bear to hurt her, even a little. I'll have to get used to soft skin and over-sensitivity and painted nails and long hair and _oh God, I'm going to have to _menstruate_. _

_Crap. Am I on my period?_

And that's all it takes for tears to fall.

I hate being a girl.

This body knows how to cry silently, in lieu of knowing how _not to cry_. I don't want to worry Diana, so I make full use of that instinctual knowledge. Unfortunately, I soon realise that silent tears don't stop the huge, wracking breaths that accompany the rivers of salty water.

"Cas? Oh God, Cas, are you okay? We've not even _got _to the emotional part yet!"

She turns around to look at me, and her eyes are wide but not quite shocked; Dean would be more than shocked, and he wouldn't know what to do. Diana immediately sits up and wraps her arms around me in a gesture that's so inherently comforting that I don't know how it's not an instinctual action for me whenever anyone's upset. The comfort is offset at the fact that she _isn't Dean_.

She kisses the top of my head and mutters to me, softly, soothingly, despite the vulgarities and harshness of what she says. "This dream so fucked you up, didn't it? I'm so sorry, sweetie, I wish you didn't have to do this… I wish I could just punch something and fix this for you, but it ain't that simple, is it? Look, just… just breathe. We'll get through this. We'll figure it out. Anything it takes. Just… take it minute by minute. If that doesn't work, take it breath by breath. We'll fix this shit."

"It isn't broken." I mutter back, a line that I somehow know won't mean anything to her, but that means a lot to me.

All the same, my tears have stopped, and I find myself clutching onto one of her arms.

"Thank you, Diana."

I can feel her open her mouth, but she doesn't correct me.

###

The rest of the day passes unremarkably, but it's more sombre than I had hoped it would be. Diana and I go to bed early. She doesn't tell me she needs cuddles to sleep, and she doesn't tell me what we're both thinking: _I hope you don't dream again_.

Of course, it means something different to the both of us; she wants me to get over the 'dream' of Dean. I want to leave this dream of her.

I'm used to the dull ache of Dean, at least enough to handle it, for now, so I wrap my arms around Diana until her breathing evens out sufficiently that I can pull back.

When I lie on my back, her breathing sounds like Dean's, and the weight distribution feels almost normal. I fall asleep quickly.

###

I wake on my side to arms over me, and I automatically think it must be Diana… but they feel heavy, and I don't feel like I have breasts.

"Dean," I breathe, and the arms around me twitch.

"Cas, don't wake me up when I'm dreaming, you know the rules."

The two deep voices make me almost cry in relief. But I don't. I know how not to.

* * *

**okay, this one was pretty difficult. I am a girl, but I'm not and never have been a boy, and nor have I ever heard of any boy being a girl. So I had to take some creative liberties. I'm sorry to anyone who thinks I portrayed either boy or girl badly; I tried my best...**

**plus, I wasn't sure how to work this prompt into the very, very human universe i've been writing this in. It's up to you whether you think it's a dream or real, or somewhere in the middle... i didn't make that clear at all. kind of on purpose.**

**ALSO: yesterday I reread the past chapters, and I realised the first paragraph of the first chapter was missing. I've fixed it now, and it makes more sense, so if you wanna go back and check that out... :)**


	15. in a different clothing style

"Hey, Cas, I've told you about Charlie, right?"

"The girl you dress up with; yes, you have."

"We LA- okay, you know. Anyway, she told me to bring you along this time." He can't look at me, so of course I know what answer I've got to give.

I smirk. "I wouldn't dare defy an order. What are your roles?"

"Well, Charlie's the Queen, which she really enjoys. I'm… uh… I'm currently her… handmaiden."

I laugh. "Handmaiden?"

"You know I only stumbled across this at all! I forgot to ask if I could stay with her, and then her condition was that I LARP with her and the only position she could give that quickly was handmaiden… but she says I'll be her knight, soon."

"Who would I be?"

"Her cousin from a far-off land. Any other position kind of… forces a commitment. And uh," he scratches the back of his neck, "if you don't like it, we don't want to force you into staying. But, um, being the Queen's cousin means you can do pretty much anything you like all weekend."

"So it's your attempt at advertising the very best side."

He grins. "Got it in one."

"Why not your cousin?"

"No handmaiden's cousin would be rich enough to come visiting, and you'd be forced to work the weekend. Wouldn't be a brilliant advertisement."

"What would I be expected to do?"

"Dress in period clothing. That's about it. Everyone knows 'cousin come visiting' means 'prospective member', so no one expects you to be any good – they'll try to sell it to you, too, so they'll ask you to join instead of just dragging you in. You'll get a lot of people fawning over you, because you're royalty. But basically, dress up and do what you feel like doing."

"Do I have to quote Braveheart?"

He fixes me with a level, unamused stare. "People will think you're quoting with the way you speak, Cas, so no need to worry there."

###

"This is itchy."

"What were you expecting?"

"Less itchy clothing."

"It's a _cheap costume_. Plus, there'll be people in worse, trust me. Potato sacks are way more itchy."

"Are we meeting Charlie before we get there?"

"Yeah, make sure you've got enough of a backstory cobbled together. We can't text each other to figure it out, for obvious reasons."

"Oh yeah, fair enough."

"Sit still, you're gonna make me crash. It'll be better when you stand up."

I huff, but cease trying to find a comfortable position. There isn't one, anyway.

Charlie's hair is a _really _bright red, but I guess she can't be expected to dye it just for the weekends. She also hugs Dean in greeting, which isn't something I see often. Dean looks uncomfortable as he pulls away, so I grin at him.

"You must be Cas, my cousin." We exchange smiles before she presses on. "Now, because you're _late_," pointed glare towards Dean, who smiles sheepishly, "we don't have much time to get a backstory together. I figured we could just say you're from the West and wanted some time off from your royal duties there. You'll be the second-youngest sibling of your lot, and if anyone questions you further, just give them a look like you'll send them to the stocks. It really works. And if you ever need help, just ask someone in armour to send for me, and that if they can't find me, to send my handmaiden. I'll just send Dean, either way, but asking straight out for my handmaiden is weird. Got it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Great! Just relax, they're cool. Now let's get going, I need to be there right from the start – opening ceremony, Dean!"

"Yeah, yeah, cool it. You're not my Queen yet."

"I am in half an hour, and if I'm not at Moondoor then, I won't hesitate to pull rank."

"I could have you dead in a ditch by then. We have a next in line to the throne already." He gestures to me.

"Oh please, there'd be a revolt."

"I dunno, it would take time for them to catch up. I could have the troops rallied by then. _They_ loved my Braveheart."

"Of course they did, Dean."

"Shut up and let me drive, woman."

"I don't appreciate your misogyny, but sure."

Dean flicks on the radio then, and the three of us can sing along to the rock songs. Dean grins at this, seeming not to notice Charlie and I exchange similar looks that seem to say merely 'Stockholm syndrome'.

We arrive just as the ceremony is scheduled to start, and I see why Dean insisted we were dressed for the journey – Charlie's already told me I should wear a long-sleeved shirt and jeans underneath; most people do and the cheap stuff's too light for it to matter. Dean grumbles about how she didn't tell him that, and I can see myself really liking Charlie.

"Come on, boys, it's time for the Queen's speech."

Dean and I stand to the side of the space reserved as a sort of stage, listening to Charlie give a speech to fill in people on what has happened in recent weekends and what is scheduled to happen this week – a small amount, actually; it seems this weekend is one for free LARPing. I do my best simply not to appear entirely befuddled.

"This weekend, dear friends, my cousin from the West is visiting. This is Castiel," she gestures to me, and Dean gives me a subtle yet strong push onto the stage. I go to stand near Charlie and give a solemn nod, unaware and unprepared. "I expect you all to afford him the same respect you would me and extend him every courtesy. If I find you have not, the consequences will be grave." She gives me a subtle tap on the side, and I leave the stage. She wraps up the speech, and the three of us gather for a brief chat before we must disperse.

"Okay, the market's that way, which is where I suggest starting for the day. Don't buy anything from anyone, the trustworthy merchants change every week. In any case, all you have to do is talk formally – which, I hear from Dean, would be natural for you. Exert authority where you need to, but just have fun. If you leave the marketplace, get a knight to tell you, and make sure someone notifies me. I'll get Dean to fetch you for dinner. Okay?"

"Uh… yes."

"Okay. We'll see ya later, Cas."

Dean presses a quick kiss to the top of my head, and then we split up.

The marketplace has a _lot _going on. There are people from the four… regions, and there is a _lot _of them. It's loud, many people trying to 'flog their wares', and their wares vary from food to clothing to weaponry, and I'm not sure how much of it is fake or real.

Those from regions other than Charlie's cast me suspicious glances, whilst Charlie's mostly ignore me. I keep wandering between stores regardless, trying not to linger long enough for anyone to expect me to buy anything.

I end up at some stocks, and whilst I assume I am in the wrong kingdom now, I linger to watch the proceedings from a small distance. Someone who looks like a goblin is reciting something to someone in a red outfit, which I assume denotes him to be from Charlie's kingdom.

"You are to be held here for an hour before you are to be executed for plotting to murder our righteous King. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

"I am innocent, I merely took a wrong turn and ended up in your kingdom! I had no intentions of murder… and I do not understand where you got that idea." He suddenly makes eye contact with me. "Oh, your majesty! I apologise for your seeing me in this state!"

I nod at him, and the goblin waves me over. "You hold a higher rank than this treacherous peasant?"

"I do."

"He is the visiting cousin of our fair Queen." The man in the stocks has an uncharacteristically smug smile for one about to be executed, suggesting my inexperience is to work to his advantage here. The goblin's long-suffering look further supports this point.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, and the laws of our four Kingdoms clearly state that one of the monarchy use his or her rank to release a prisoner from a death sentence if their case is not solid, is that not so?"

"It is." After a glare to the prisoner, the goblin turns to face me. "What is your name?"

"Castiel."

"Well, Castiel, would you like to exert your power to release this useless peasant?"

I haven't been coached in this and I'm unsure what to do. I have seen some other LARPers call 'time out' and I reason that it is better to ask than to fumble and cause reckless harm to Charlie's kingdom. I make the T symbol clumsily, "Time out. Would releasing him cause consequence to the kingdom, or would he simply be free?"

"He'd basically just be free, but you're only allowed to free one prisoner per weekend." The goblin appears relieved to take his teeth out, and merely resigned to the loss of his case.

"All right, then. Are you two okay to continue?" The goblin nods, putting back in his teeth, and the prisoner gives me a look to say 'the sooner the better'. "Time… in, then? I would choose to free the prisoner, if you please."

"Of course." The goblin releases the man in red, and he stands up and rolls his neck. The goblin then leans towards the man, hissing, "but watch your step. I would not count on your luck so much next time." He stomps off, leaving just the man and me.

"Thanks, man. He's had it out for me for weeks, we work together and I got a promotion when he didn't… it's not really in the spirit of things, but whatever, right?"

"What would have happened had you been executed?"

"We should really go back to our kingdom; I'll show you around or something. Execution means you have to make a new character or bow out gracefully, because your character's dead. That means you have to start from the bottom again, so it's best to avoid it."

"Oh, right."

"So you're checking it out? Considering joining?"

"Ah, kind of. I was… pushed to. Someone I'm close to enjoys it, and he suggested I give it a try. He's friends with Charlie – the Queen, I'm not sure if you know her name? – and as his rank is lower, we agreed I would pose as a relation of the Queen instead."

"Oh, the handmaiden? Yeah, he's made a bit of an impression." The man laughs, and it's not mean, but it suggests Dean's reputation isn't wonderful.

"Um, what's your name?"

"Benny."

"Thank you. What kind of impression?"

"Nothing too bad, really. He just turned up and got a role near the monarchy because he's friends with Charlie. No one's really keen on that kind of an 'easy ride', but no one really cares about the handmaiden position and if he gets out of it, it'll be 'cos he earned it, so… and yeah, if you keep at it, you'll get the same kinda stigma attached to you."

"Great."

"It's better than starting at the bottom, trust me. What do you want to see?"

"I don't know. I've _seen_ the marketplace, but it's easier if I stay there, so… would you mind teaching me about it? I guess."

"Oh yeah, no big deal. I started out as a merchant's assistant here, actually, so you're in luck."

###

When Dean comes to fetch me, I know how to detect the good stalls from the bad, what sells well and what never sells, what is a good price or bad, and much more. Somehow Benny tells me it all in a fairly interesting way, so the information is all stored.

"Made a friend, Cas?"

Benny chuckles. "I'll see ya around, Castiel. Thanks again."

"I rescued him from the stocks, so he repaid the favour by teaching me about the markets."

"What, just looking isn't enough for you?" Dean shakes his head in a nice way, and we head towards Charlie's tent.

"Never has been." We grin at each other.

"Castiel!" Charlie exclaims when we arrive. "How did you find it?"

"He's been learning about the marketplace."

"How did you get someone to _teach _you? The merchants are notoriously secretive."

"I rescued a man who was wrongfully to be executed, and he used to be a merchant's assistant."

"Okay, now I really want you to stick around; that would be _so _useful."

I shrug. "Maybe every so often; it was pretty interesting." Dean only comes up for one weekend a month; handmaidens and knights are aplenty, so he doesn't need to be around all the time, like Charlie does.

"Travelling merchant. My kingdom doesn't have one. I'm supposed to choose a merchant to sell our kingdom's wares within the other kingdoms, rather than just at the marketplace. And, of course, you'd need a knight to protect you." She smiles at Dean, and we both know it's a bribe.

"Well, how could I say no?"

* * *

**I've never LARPed and I can't remember exactly what was said about this LARP in the episode. Pretend any discrepancies are because they're set in different universes. Thanks xo**

**(next chapter gets shorter)**


	16. during their morning rituals

The alarm blares, and my eyes open gradually. I'm accustomed to this kind of a wake-up call. As I shut it off, however, I remember that it's Saturday and waking up to an alarm is, actually, not a regular occurrence.

But that's because Dean and I are going out this morning – and yes, it has to be in the morning – because it's Garth's birthday and Dean forgot to get him a gift (I didn't, I'm obviously the better uncle) and Garth has already informed us he expects two. Dean spoils them.

"Dean," I say, because whilst he can sleep through a blaring alarm and, presumably, a bomb blast, he cannot sleep through someone saying his name. He tells me I sleep talk sometimes. He's not a fan.

"No, no, Cas, you don't wake me up, I wake up whenever I want to, leave me alone… no, just come back to bed with me, it's the weekend, right?" I work my way out of his octopus grip with a smile.

"You see, I'd be able to come back to bed with you if you hadn't forgotten your nephew's birthday. But things being as they are…"

He groans and pulls a pillow over his head, so I pull the sheet off of his body, causing him to gasp at the sudden change in temperature. "_Fuck_. Why do you like the air con?"

"For purposes such as these. _Up_, Winchester."

"Fuck you. Fine, I'm up. How long do we have to the party?"

"4 hours. Get ready."

"I'm having the first shower!" _That _gets him moving, as he practically runs from the bed to the bathroom. I roll my eyes and instead go to get breakfast ready.

Dean doesn't ever take long in the shower, and I feel like cooking him a nice breakfast would be promoting the behaviour that leads to us being awake at 9am on a Saturday. So I simply put toast in the toaster, get out the butter, and lean against a counter rubbing my eyes. It's a productive way to spend my time.

When it pops, I butter the slices and eat mine slowly, listening to Dean singing along to the AC/DC playing in his head, until I hear the shower shut off. I make a conscious effort to finish off my slice then, before I walk into the bedroom to watch Dean put a shirt on. He sees me and shakes his head dry like a dog.

"This is how I get repaid for making you breakfast?"

He sniffs. "Toast doesn't count. Plus, you're about to get in the shower, it's hardly a problem."

I choose my clothes, then hit him with my pair of jeans. "I buttered the toast for you; if you're not grateful then I won't do that again…" he's too forceful with a butter knife. He always complains at how he ends up with holes in his toast.

"I would like to profess my undying love to you."

"Accepted." I nod at him, and we exchange grins as we go our opposite directions.

The bathroom smells like him, and the water's already hot. I'd never tell Dean this, but I prefer having a shower after he has – we have enough hot water to accommodate it, anyway.

Another thing I won't admit to Dean: I was humming the same AC/DC tune as quietly as I could.

I quickly shower, dry off, get dressed – I've grabbed another one of his shirts. _I should really stop enforcing his fetish_ – and towel-dry my hair. It makes it look slightly crazy, but Dean always grins when he sees I haven't tried to tame it. After brushing my teeth, I stroll back out to see Dean finishing off his second slice of toast. I affectionately cuff him on the back of his head and tell him to brush his teeth.

"You say it like I otherwise wouldn't."

I raise my eyebrows.

"That was _once_."

"_Thrice_, Dean. It's disgusting."

"It's not that bad."

"You weren't the one who got kissed by the guy with morning breath… at 3pm."

Dean shrugs. "You liked it."

"No, I didn't."

"I'll go brush my teeth now."

"You do that."

* * *

**this one's short because there's only so much stuff that isn't boring about a morning ritual.**

**have you noticed the titling's getting more boring? it's getting harder to deviate from the prompts. exams are sucking my creativity - i'm really sorry!**


	17. spooning (done wrong)

**title: spooning (done wrong)**

* * *

"Hey, Cas, I did the washing up for once." Dean grins boyishly at me, and I try to restrain the responding smile.

I shake my head slowly. "Did you put everything away?"

"Yeah. So, you proud?"

"I'd be proud if this wasn't a special occasion." I ruffle his hair, but slip into his lap on the sofa. He may not like cuddling, but he does like this. Don't ask me what the difference is. "So, what are we watching?"

"Well, I was watching one of those British nature programmes, but we can change the channel." His arm drapes itself around me, and I burrow as much into him as I can. This is maybe as much of a reward for me as it is for him. Not that I know what I'm rewarding myself for. I just am.

"No, I like David Attenborough."

"It's not David Attenborough."

"Change the channel."

"It's David Tennant."

"Stay on this channel."

"You're a bit indecisive."

"Your fault, you knew what you were doing."

"True enough." He kisses the top of his head, and I fall asleep to a soothing Scottish accent and the smell of Dean (whiskey and leather, in case you're wondering. His dad's old jacket smells like it, and it just… sticks to him).

###

I wake up with somewhat of a jolt, the very act surprising me. The sound of Dean chuckling wafts above my head. "Long day at work?"

"Long _week_ at work." I lean back and carefully stretch, so as not to cause Dean any trouble. "Sorry, are you okay?"

"Yeah, you weren't out that long." He smiles at me in a way I can only describe as fond. "What's happening at work?"

"Oh… it's just busy. Everyone wants something done, and I'm basically the paid intern." I shrug. The boss has told me she's impressed with my work, so a promotion seems probable. Especially as a senior member in my team is about to retire. "Plus, people are still whispering when I leave the room."

"_Still_? I thought you let the word 'boyfriend' slip months ago."

"I did. It's not common for book editors to be forgetful, though." I smile wryly.

"What's their _problem_?" He grumbles, with little malice but more… sadness.

"I don't think it's their _problem_, per se, I just think we get so little gossip that mine's stuck. I don't know, it might just be that I don't ever tell them anything about me." I shrug.

"It's not their business, though; they shouldn't make your life difficult because of it."

I smile up at him. "Thank you, but I'm all right. We already knew they were idiots. What's the time? Should I be making dinner?"

"I just ordered Chinese, don't worry. I thought that was what woke you up, actually."

"Well, if it did, I didn't notice." We smile at each other for a couple of seconds. "Do you want me to move? I've been here a while, are your legs going dead?"

"Nah, I have enough thigh muscle to handle this for… at least a few more hours." He grins and tightens his grip on me a little.

"If you complain of pins and needles later, I'm not helping."

He shrugs. "That only works to your detriment."

"I'm not even going to reply to that."

We watch the TV until food arrives. Well, I say we watch, but I don't honestly know what's going on – I'm still only barely awake.

When the food arrives, Dean shoos me off to answer the door. I think he just wants to show his legs aren't dead, but they buckle a little on the way to the door. At my laugh, he flips me the bird behind his back before charmingly greeting the delivery man.

When the door closes, I get up to grab us forks.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Are you aware of how the cutlery gets set out?"

"What?"

"You've put all the forks in the spoon section."

"What? No, I didn't."

"Come, bear witness."

He peers over my shoulder, having put down the containers. "Crap. How did I do that?"

"That's my question." I move the forks, grab a couple, then turn with a smile. "Spooning only works between two of the same type. Spoons are compatible with spoons, but forks poke the spoons too much; the spoons don't like it."

Dean narrows his eyes. "You just tried to make a pun."

"It was a great pun."

Dean shakes his head. "No, it wasn't."

I poke him with a fork. No spooning for him.

* * *

**if you remember, 'cuddling' was technically spooning... so i had to make do with the pg-rated version. hope it didn't suck.**

**(i really liked the idea, but the actuality disappointed me a bit, ngl)**


	18. doing something together

**title: doing something together (a.k.a. the one with magic pirates)**

* * *

Dean flourishes a red-checked shirt as though I am a bull. "Hello, Dean." My head tilt asks the question for me.

"We're going on a picnic."

"Why?"

"You're not allowed to ask why we're going on a date. People go on dates all the time, we don't need reasons."

"Okay, no need to sound so defensive." I smile. "Do I need to get changed?"

"No. It's just a picnic."

"Calm down, Dean. I'm not going to break up with you if it's a bad date."

He shrugs. "You don't know how bad it could be. You've tasted my cooking before."

"You act like you've made something more than sandwiches."

He raises eyebrows. "Oh ye of little faith."

"You made more than sandwiches?"

"Technically, no. But they're sausage sandwiches. Actually, yeah, can we go now? They won't be so nice lukewarm."

I laugh. "Okay."

He hooks his arm through the backpack on the counter, and his other arm links with mine. "I hope you don't mind that we don't have the right blanket. I packed your star gazing one, though."

"We can't use the star gazing blanket in broad daylight, Dean! How dare you suggest a blanket could be useful in more than one circumstance?" I gasp theatrically.

"I hate you."

"I love you, too."

We walk past the Impala. "Dean, are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, why?" He sounds wary.

"You're _choosing_ to walk?"

"Shut up, we're only going to the park."

"She's going to think you don't love her!"

"It's only 5 minutes away, let it go."

I pretend to blink back tears and sniff. "I'm so proud."

"I regret this already. I found a red checked shirt. I cooked sausages. Can't you just be grateful?"

"You wouldn't think I was me if I let you get away with _anything _without a little light-hearted teasing."

"It would be nice, though."

"You'd miss me."

"Ah… maybe." He grins at me.

"You tease me just as much as I tease you. You can't complain. Plus, you wouldn't function without me. You thought the forks intermingled with the spoons." I shake my head dramatically.

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"You still haven't let the dinosaur t-shirt incident go, so no."

"I'll have to find more material on you, then." He grins.

"That'll be difficult. I never make mistakes."

"Gabriel would beg to differ."

"You wouldn't."

Dean starts to whistle.

"Your _oh-I'm-_so_-innocent_ act doesn't work on me, Winchester. I know he scares you."

"He does no such thing."

"Of course not."

"Okay, we're here now, so I can change the subject. Look at those beautiful trees!"

I kiss him on the cheek with a grin. "Fix the blanket, Romeo."

Dean gives me an unamused look, only slightly ruined by his smile. He brandishes the blanket and spreads it on the ground. "After you, your highness."

"Thank you, handmaiden."

He casts his eyes skyward. "Eat your sandwich and like it."

"I'm sure I will." I grin. "No one does sausage like you."

"Can I give up on dating forever or am I too young?"

"Not too young if you're okay with staying celibate forever."

"Or I could just stay with you."

"Not if you say 'just'. Plus, I enjoy the occasional time in which to mock you mercilessly."

He shakes his head. "This is what I get for trying to keep romance alive."

I put my sandwich down and kiss him, square on the mouth. "Thank you for trying to cheer me up. It's working. Now let it be."

He blinks innocently; I can almost feel his eyelashes on my cheekbones. "I never said I was trying to cheer you up."

"I know your scheming look."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. Shut up, accept my thanks, and eat your sandwich."

"Yes, sir." He takes a bite. "It's a good day for a picnic. I'm quite proud."

"What, did you choose the weather?"

"Yeah, I rang up the weatherman this morning and asked him for a favour."

"The weatherman doesn't control the weather."

"The ones on TV don't, but I know the real one. Once saved his life, so he owed me a favour."

"Really? How did you save it?"

"It's a really long story."

"If it involves pirates in any way, then I want to hear it."

"How did you know?"

"I took a lucky guess."

"Okay, so you want to hear?"

"How could I not?"

"Exactly. Okay, we went to school together. He was the weird kid, he always smelt like ozone, you know? And he'd occasionally come to school _dripping _wet, even when we were in the middle of a drought. He also had this _huge _crush on me, but who can blame him really?"

"Exactly, you were at your absolute peak in school."

"This was after the braces. Shut up. In any case, we never really talked, but once I was just walking for help, and I heard this really, really girly scream for help, so of course I burst into action – anything for a lovely lady. I turn the corner, and there's this _huge _boat… which was insane, it was a pretty small river. Anyway, I saw someone attacking the weatherman, and I managed to figure out that it was a pirate wizard. You've heard of them, right?"

"Hasn't everyone?"

"Right! I reached into my backpack for what I _always_ carry with me, the one thing a pirate wizard cannot defeat… a lollipop."

"Oh, come on! That's just unrealistic. No one carries a lollipop around all the time, not even Gabe!"

Dean holds up a finger with a smug smirk, and pulls a lollipop out of his bag. "I'd eat it, but this is the bag I used to use for school. I'm not sure what else has been in the bottom of this bag with it since school."

"You put our lunch in that bag without trusting it? Should I worry about food poisoning?"

"No! I made sure it was well-wrapped. We should be safe."

"_Should_ be."

"It tastes fine. Now should I get on with the story or not?"

"Go on. But if I die, I'm having you blamed on my gravestone."

"Hah, as if. I'm deciding what goes on that."

"Have fun getting Gabe to agree with that."

"I'll just kill him, too, then; I know he can't resist food. Now shh! I'm telling a story!" He pauses for a second, with a finger on his chin, to figure out where he was. "So, as I was running around the corner, I pull out the lollipop, unwrap it and throw it as hard as I can, straight into the pirate wizard's eye. He screamed and fell back into the river. The others looked like they'd come off board, but I gave them my most menacing look and they just sailed away as fast as they could." He shrugs modestly.

I hold back a laugh.

"The weatherman practically professed his love for me there and then. I told him not to mention it, because I didn't want anyone to think I _liked _him. It would impact my ability to get girls, you know?" We grin at each other. "But he wouldn't let me go until he told me he owed me a favour. He never forgot that; when I called him, I only had to say my name until he was practically begging to help me."

"Yes, that makes perfect sense. And I think your favour was used in a very worthy cause."

"Oh yeah, I can't think of a single better way to spend it. I mean, I could save lives or something, but nah. The weather for this one date is way more important."

"Absolutely. I'd leave you if the weather sucked, and that would be way worse than multiple people we _don't know_ dying."

"Exactly."

"You got any other food in that lovely school bag of yours?"

"Well, I have the lollipop, if you want it."

"I'd love it." He holds it out to me. I take it and throw it towards the bin. I miss, but it's the thought that counts.

"Hey! What if we run into pirate wizards?"

"We better go shopping before we go near any rivers."

"Yeah, we probably should stock up."

I give him a look. "You wouldn't be Dean if you didn't have some form of dessert in there."

"Well, this is awkward." He pulls a face.

"Dean."

"No, I've been meaning to tell you for a while. My name is actually… Fred. It's nice to meet you."

I give him a look.

He gives me a look.

My look wins. "Okay, yeah, I have pie."

I smile. "Well, you're sharing."

"You're no fun."

"I could tell a story involving pirate wizards."

"No, I've already told you one of those, it'd be boring. You have no imagination, geesh."

"I love you, too."

He smiles at me over his shoulder as he grabs the pie and cutlery.

"This was all wrapped up, too?"

"Yes, mother."

"We need to get you a new bag."

"Or we could clear this one out."

"Do you really want to reach into the bottom of that?"

He looks, then pulls a face. "Wow, I think you've just done the impossible and put me off my pie."

"Doubtful."

He looks at the pie. "Nope, I still want the pie."

I grin. "There's the Dean I know."

"I told you, I'm Fred. I'd like it if you called me by my real name."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't."

* * *

**this prompt was the most pathetically vague thing of all. ****_doing something together_****. really? it's an otp challenge. they're practically supposed to be together for ****_the whole thing_****.**

**also, i forgot what people do together that isn't going to the cinema or watching dvds together. i had to text a friend. i just didn't like this prompt. i hope that doesn't reflect in my writing of it.**


	19. (i'd rather not be) in formal wear

**sorry.**

**title: (i'd rather not be) in formal wear**

* * *

It takes an evening of watching TV for me to be able to broach the risky topic with Dean. My fast heart beat is distracting, and there is no appeal in talking with a dry mouth. I force myself to do so regardless. "I have a proposition."

He looks at me, and his posture changes immediately to one that knows this is a serious conversation. His face is blank. "Well, this ought to be fun."

"My boss wants to have a business dinner with me. She's bringing her husband. I… would like to take you."

Dean gives me a level look. His hands clutch each other a little bit, and he otherwise looks unperturbed. He's not. "You know how I feel in… in _formal settings_." His mouth contorts around the words.

"I do."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Moral support, mostly."

"Bring someone-"

"I said 'mostly', not all." I smile a little bit, then bite the inside of my lip. "You've gotten better about… everything since when we first met. I think you could handle it."

"I can't. And even if I thought I could, I wouldn't want to take the chance around your _boss_."

"I'm the one who's being assessed, not you. Your presence won't affect her impression of me or not, regardless of what happens. In that way, it's basically the one circumstance I can guarantee no repercussions for what could happen. And… and I don't think anything _would _happen."

"No."

"How long has it been since you last had an 'incident'?" I use quotation marks in a futile effort to get Dean to smile.

"Cas-"

"Dean. How long?"

Pause. "I don't know."

"Over a year."

"So I don't think I should jump straight into a pit of alligators."

"Neither do I. We could go out for dinner – _formal _dinner – with, say Anna and her husband beforehand. Or just us. We can afford one dinner, and work will pay for the business dinner."

"I just don't feel comfortable with it."

"I wouldn't expect you to, that's not the point of it."

He looks sick as he shakes his head. "No."

I look down and close my eyes as I nod. "Okay."

"You can still take someone else, I'm sure Anna would be willing-" He reaches an arm out to me, but I've still got to make dinner, so I jump up quickly. He looks like a wounded puppy.

I try for a smile. "I don't want to take Anna, Dean."

He lets me get to the kitchen without continuing the conversation. It's what I want, but it somewhat makes me more sad.

I hear his sock-clad feet pad over when I'm about halfway through cooking. "Cas…" his voice is quiet, hesitant. I don't respond, but he knows that if I didn't want him to continue, he'd know. "What's the dinner about?"

"It hasn't been explicitly stated, but one of the senior members of my team is retiring soon and we all know she's looking for someone to promote. I suspect this dinner would be about gauging how well I would fit the position."

"She'd be a fool not to give you the post."

I laugh a little. "You may be a little biased. Others are also well-suited."

"Nah, you're a shoo-in. You've worked your socks off for this." I smile down at my bare feet, because he intended that, but I only hum in response.

He pauses, but it's a pause that says he will continue, given enough time.

I can hear him hunch his shoulders defensively. Quietly, he says "but you'll get it without me at the dinner with you."

I close my eyes and try to count, because he's _not getting it_. But dinner's almost ready, and I shouldn't take my eyes off it, so I turn off the heat before just turning around to Dean. "Maybe I will, and maybe I won't. But that doesn't change that I'd rather like the one person I love most to be beside me for it."

I serve up food for him, and leave the rest on the side. "Enjoy dinner. I'm not hungry."

I read in our room until I start to feel tired, whereupon I get ready for bed, and curl almost in foetal position on my side of the bed. I'm not asleep when Dean joins me, and not for a while after. I don't often reach out for him in sleep, acknowledging his declaration of _not being a cuddler_, but we do tend to be closer than this. He seems to decide against reaching out for me.

It takes a long while for his breath to even out, and longer still for me to fall asleep.

###

I wake up first in the morning, and decide it's been too long since I last went for a run. I slip out of bed quietly to get changed.

I run out of breath quicker than I remember I used to, but that isn't really a surprise. I last a decent while, and return home sweaty.

Our shower isn't quiet, but Dean would probably sleep through a hurricane if no one called his name in it. Still, it seems he didn't sleep well last night, and he's sat eating cereal, bleary-eyed, at the kitchen table when I get out.

I resist the urge to run my hands through my very recently-combed hair, and start talking. "I think I'm going to go out. We're running out of milk, and I need to get a few books. Do you want anything?"

"If you wait a couple of minutes, I'll come with you." Green eyes are boring holes in the back of my coat as I slip it on.

"No need. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Before I shut the door, I hear the thump similar to one made when one drops one's head on a kitchen table. I bite my lip, but we do need milk, especially if he's just had cereal.

###

When I return home, Dean is dressed and sat again at the kitchen table with a kind of resolution in his eyes that means he's placed a panicked phone call to Sam. I can feel the ghost of a smile twist my mouth; this is so like the beginning of our living together. "Hello, Dean."

"We need to talk."

"I get that." I pull off my shoes and sit across from him.

"You know I'm no good at this, so I'm just gonna skip straight to the point and hope it doesn't offend you any more…" he lifts his eyes to meet mine solidly. _Something you wouldn't have done a few years ago, Dean_. "It doesn't seem like you to get annoyed about me rejecting a dinner with your boss. That means there's… other factors. Can I get the full back story?"

I take a deep breath, careful to maintain eye contact. "You're right. It's been building up for a while… and I've tried to ignore it, but I can't anymore." I notice I'm rubbing my hands over one another, and make a conscious effort to stop. "I don't think you have enough faith in yourself, and honestly? I'm tired of… this sounds so selfish." I rub my hand over my eyes. I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Dean waits for me to finish. "Give me a minute to phrase it properly." He nods.

"I'm tired of… pushing. It's not like you never try to get better on your own, like with holding hands or that you choose to take me out on dates when you couldn't for _months _after our first… but whenever you try it's with tentative, tiny steps. And it's good that you do try, but I feel like it needs to be more.

"Don't get me wrong. I have _no problems _with you… being unable to do things. That's fine. It's that you can't test limits, at all. And that means _I _miss out on certain things… like being able to bring my boyfriend to dinners.

"I never wanted to bring it up. It sounds… awful when I say it out loud. I love you, all that you are, but… I guess that's the truth of it."

"So… what do you want?" He tries to look stoic, but he's just scared.

I shake my head. "Not to break up, definitely not. You're stuck with me for a while yet." I laugh weakly. Dean doesn't respond, except to relax slightly. "I… guess I want to be able to introduce you to strangers in situations where they don't care about who you are, but where your presence matters _to me_. Actually… I suppose it's not that, not really. I suppose it's more that I want to be able to rely on you for moral support in the same ways I try to be around for you. You go to dinners with my boss, I go to parties with your colleagues… I don't know, Dean. It's okay if you can't, seriously."

He's looking in my direction, but it's not at me. He's thinking. So I go to the chair nearest him, facing the opposite direction he is, and I take his hand. _I wish we hadn't fought_.

I know he does, too.

It takes a few minutes until he nods. "I'll go to the dinner."

"You don't have to."

"No, I want to. You're right. If she does care about how I act, then she isn't a good boss, and… you should be able to rely on me for moral support, too. You're always there for me; I really ought to return the favour." He nudges me, squeezes my hand.

I nudge him back. "You are. It's just time to up the ante."

He smirks. "You know I can't resist a challenge."

I smile at him. "Thank you."

He smiles back. "You're welcome."

* * *

**after writing this, i realised a later prompt was 'arguing'. whatever. i spent too long figuring out how to do this prompt to go back and _re_do it.  
**

**Shameless self promotion below, feel free to close this now.**

**okay, so my tumblr's in my profile (ishouldnotlietomrfizzles for those who haven't seen it), and if anyone would care to follow, you'd make my day. aaaaand if anyone would like to enter my follower contest, well, my love would be unabiding.**


	20. dancing

**title is a play on 'I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend to dance with you', in case that's a bit unclear and it just seems like a stupid title. Which it still is.**

**title: dancing (a.k.a. i'm totally gonna teach my boyfriend to dance with me)**

* * *

"Dean? Can I ask a favour?"

"Yeah, of course. What is it?"

"Can you… teach me how to dance?"

"What? I've… never had any more training in this than you have."

"No, I know, but… you've always seemed far more confident in it than I have."

"Wait, I swear you've only ever seen me dance at Sammy's wedding."

"Yes, and I spent my time not dancing, and watching you. You happened to be dancing."

"Well, if you really want me to teach you to dance, I will, but I have to say it's probably a bad idea."

"Why?"

"Nah, I won't go for the self-deprecating shit today. I can dance. Kick off your shoes, I'll do my best. Hey, don't laugh! I can dance."

"That's why I asked you."

"You don't need to look like you're doing me a favour by it. Just for that, I'm choosing the music."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Shut up. Okay, the most important thing is that you need to keep rhythm with the music. It's not really something that can be taught, it's something you either have or haven't got… I'm pretty sure you do, though, so I'll just show you how to _use _it."

"Use the rhythm. Feel the rhythm. _Be _the rhythm. Is that it?"

"Yep, pretty much. Okay, you can pick the rhythm in this, right?"

"It's basically all rhythm, Dean."

"Exactly, I'm starting you off easy. Now here, tap it out on the table."

"Like this?"

"Yeah, that's good. Now, and this part's more difficult, you've heard of… beats in a bar, right?"

"Um, yes."

"Try and tap those out."

"I… don't know how."

"Okay, well, I'll do this one for you. You hear this? There's more emphasis, like there's a stronger beat on the first and third, you get that? And there's less on the second and fourth. It's pretty easy with four beats in a bar, but once you've mastered that, you've pretty much got it for them all. Try with this one. Take your time."

"I… is that it?"

"Not quite, but you're only a little off. Try with this one."

"Okay, have I got it?"

"Yep, nice one."

"Why thank you."

"Now we just need to master the dancing part."

"Are you sure we ought to tackle that right now? I'm feeling pretty tired from the 'rhythm' section."

"Stop being snarky and pay attention, because I'm only gonna show you this once."

"Sounds intriguing."

"I thought I said stop being snarky? Whatever. Right, the first most important thing, what I just taught you, in dancing is…"

"The rhythm."

"Right. But the second most important thing is, and we've touched on this already, the confidence. It doesn't matter what you're doing, because if you look like you know what you're doing, it'll get you pretty far. As you've already proved, by saying you think I'm a good dancer."

"You are."

"I'm not. But anyway, I'll show you how far confidence can get you."

"Are… are you doing the Macarena?"

"Wait for it. I've gotta work up to the good stuff."

"Sure you do."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"You know it's rude to laugh at a masterpiece."

"_That_'s… what you call… a masterpiece?"

"Absolutely. You saying it wasn't good?"

"Absolutely amazing. I'm sure it would get some teenage girls pretty happy."

"And by happy, you mean…?"

"On their knees."

"You're just saying that because of the hip shaking."

"Well, of course."

"And it makes you laugh."

"Yes, I'm impervious to your charms."

"Are you sure about that?"

"…"

"…"

"_Okay_, you're supposed to be teaching me how to dance. And stop with the smirking."

"How could I not smirk?"

"Easily. Get on with it, Winchester."

"Whatever you say, Novak. Okay, I'll just introduce you to a couple of genres, but I'm not really good at these so I'll probably give up on them pretty soon."

"Sounds like fun."

"Should be, yeah. Okay, this is a tango. You can probably tell from the tone of most of them – they're quite dark, they're all about passion and that sort of thing. But the one way to definitely tell is the rhythm. They all use tango rhythm, and it sounds like this: 'time to tango'. Can you hear that? Time to tango, time to tango…"

"Yeah, I got that."

"In the tango, you stand really close, like so. Then you keep your upper body entirely rigid, you don't move it at all, and just use your legs – no, move your arm here, got it?"

"I think so."

"I put you in the girl position, by the way."

"That's fine, you're the one who knows what you're doing, you ought to lead."

"I was implying that you're the girly one, could you please acknowledge my insults?"

"No; in dancing, the shorter partner is always going to take the traditionally 'female' role simply out of convenience. That it is the female role is simply because the average woman is shorter than the average man, and, at least when these dances were invented, the pairs were mostly male-female."

"Okay, you can be quiet now. This one's pretty fast, see if you can keep up."

"A little warning next time?"

"Nope. Okay, you step on the 'time', and move along for the 'to tango' parts. Got it?"

"Uh… sure."

"Bored of that one."

"_Bored_?"

"You know my attention span."

"True."

"Okay, the waltz is also really boring, but it was pretty sensational in its time; primarily because of how scandalously close the pair was supposed to stand."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Dude, I spend all day at home when you're working. The internet is my closest friend."

"That's so sad."

"Shut up. Anyway, this is that scandalous closeness; truly awful, right?"

"Of course."

"What makes the waltz different is that it's on 3/4 time instead of 4/4, so what I taught you about 4/4 at the beginning doesn't help at all – that's 3 beats in a bar instead of 4, by the way."

"Thanks."

"It just means the stress is on the first beat and on neither of the others, so if you clapped it out, it would be like this…"

"Right."

"Anyway, I don't have _The Blue Danube_, and I've never been able to figure out which has 3/4 or 4/4, so we're just gonna imagine this one…"

"You could always hum for me."

"I hate you, shut up. Like with the tango, you step on the first beat. This one's basically just flowing and twirling, so if you can't do it, then I worry for you."

"Sounds like fun."

"It can be pretty dizzying, you might want to hold on tight."

"But I wouldn't want to move out of position!"

"Why did you ask me to help if all you're going to do is tease?"

"Because you're adorable when you pout."

"I know. Okay, we'll move on to the teen movie favourite – _the slow dance_."

"That's… not a proper genre."

"So? It's the dance everyone can do. You'll look like an idiot if everyone's doing the stupid slow dance and you're like 'hey, let's tango!'"

"… okay?"

"Anyway, here. Wrap your arms around my neck, and I'll put mine around your waist."

"I think I've got that move down."

"I should hope so, with the amount of practice you've had. We stand as close as we possibly can and we _stare _into each other's eyes with all the sappiness we can muster."

"You seem to be able to muster a lot."

"I save it for special occasions."

"Of course… you do."

"Are you okay? Your legs seem a little weak."

"_Stop _with the damn _smirking_."

"The true reason it's a favourite in teen movies is because it takes no skill whatsoever, you just sway and kind of move in circles."

"Wow, something I can actually do."

"You did the others fine."

"Because I just let you pull me around."

"That's all leading is, anyway. The reason this one is the _actual _teenagers favourite, though, which movies never seem to capitalise on, is that it's easy to just lean foreheads together, do the eye melt…"

"… you mean eye sex."

"These are teenagers, Cas, keep it decent."

"You're not."

"Be quiet and enjoy the moment. The eye melt… then you can easily just reach down and…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… _kiss _your partner."

"I think I found my new favourite dance."

"You're a teenager!"

"Hey, bet we could manage the kissing in the tango."

"Unlikely. You forgot to sway just then."

"I just need practice."

"Then we can't move onto the tango just yet, that's a master move."

"Of course it is."

"We can practice now, if you like."

"That sounds pretty good."

* * *

**okay, this one might be weird, basically because i was trying to challenge myself to write a chapter that pretty much focuses on the action without writing any of that, and just doing the dialogue. Also, i did music gcse so i don't know how much of that might be out of character for anyone to know... and there may be mistakes because i didn't do well in my music gcse. but i figure the errors would just fit characterisation better.**

**anyway, hope you enjoyed!xo**


	21. cookingbaking (aka brotherly love)

**we're going to pretend i didn't almost forget to upload this.**

**title: cooking/baking (a.k.a. brotherly love means forgetting birthdays)**

* * *

The first thing I do when I enter the house is check the mail. In doing that, I remember the date. "Oh. Hey, Dean, what did you get for Sam's birthday?"

"What? Wait, shit, when's that?"

"Tomorrow?"

He pauses. "Hey, do you want to go shopping? Like, now, maybe?"

I laugh. "Sure, why not?"

"Okay. Um, plan: I get changed; you check what we have in the kitchen. We go out. I go look for presents; you buy the stuff we need for a cake, which you'll know because you've just checked the kitchen. You then come meet me to make sure what I'm buying isn't too stupid. We come home, bake a cake and wrap the present. Voilà, Sammy never has to know I forgot his birthday!"

"There's something inherently wrong in that I have to check what you want to buy him."

"There've been too many birthdays in which I accidentally got him a Barbie, no one wants another repeat."

"Point taken. Now get dressed, shops will start closing soon."

###

"Cas… have I ever told you I can't wrap things?"

"Learn. I've already wrapped a present this year, I'm not doing it again." I pat him on the head. "Good try at making me do everything, though."

"Worth a shot."

###

"Okay… step 1: preheat the oven to… 190˚C."

"Done."

"Okay, we're supposed to… butter the two 20cm sandwich tins. Sandwich tins? We're baking cake!"

"That's these, I believe." I hold up the two circular metal pans.

"How do we butter them? I don't think taking a buttered knife to them would work."

"No, much more fun. Cut out some butter and rub it in with your hands. I believe this would be your area of expertise, Dean."

"Sounds about right, yeah." He grins at me, and gets right at it. "Okay, the instruction after that is… 'in a large bowl, beat all the cake ingredients together until you have a smooth, soft batter'. Apparently, that's all you get."

"_All_ of them?"

"That's what it says."

"At once? No order?"

He shrugs. "Apparently."

"I swear there was an order when I used to do them."

"Then give it an order. I guess it doesn't really matter."

"Um… sugar and butter, first, I think. Wait, this butter is supposed to be softened."

"How do you soften butter?"

"Leave it out for half an hour, I think."

"I'm not waiting that long."

I glance at the microwave. "How long do you think would soften the butter?"

"Like… half a minute?"

"Would that melt it, though?"

"Our microwave does either no time or half a minute. Watch it carefully."

I laugh. "I'll try." I put it in, set it to half a minute, and watch like a hawk. It starts to melt pretty early, so I take it out.

"That still looks pretty solid."

"It's either that or liquid butter."

"That could be fun."

"No."

"Aw, fine."

"Okay, did you finish buttering the pans?"

"Yeah."

"Mix the butter with the sugar until it's… fluffy, I think that's the terminology… until it looks like it's properly mixed and it isn't too grainy."

"Okie dokie."

I supervise. He's the muscle man of the relationship.

"That do, boss?"

"Yeah, should do. Okay, now I guess we could sieve in the flour."

"Not sure on this one?"

"Can't remember whether it's eggs or flour first. I'm just going with flour."

"It'd get pretty solid."

"Yeah, you make a good point. Okay, why don't you just… mix in the baking powder with the flour? That's what makes the cake rise, by the way. I'll mix the eggs in."

He nods, and I get on, adding the eggs little by little.

"Shit."

"What?" Dean peers over my shoulder.

"I should have beaten the eggs."

He pauses. "Domestic abuse?"

"Not quite. It's just more difficult with the butter and sugar present."

"Yeah, don't beat the spouse in front of the kids – hey, don't threaten me with a whisk!"

"We don't have kids."

"Spousal abuse is wrong regardless of whether kids are witnessing it." He pouts.

"Fine." I've always been bad at beating eggs, and trying to mix it in with the butter and sugar is pretty difficult as well.

When Dean next tries to see what's happening with me, and whether it looks like a cake yet or not, he gets egg in the face. "Hey!"

I pull a face. "Unintentional, I'm sorry."

"Well, that's okay, as long as I get a free pass." He flicks flour into my face.

"Hey, not only was the egg unintentional, but I've helped you not only _remember _your brother's birthday, but also to prepare for it. You could show a bit more love, here." When Dean is focused on my face, I dip my finger in the slightly buttery egg mixture.

"I love you, but you also look great with flour on your face, so there's that."

"I wish you hadn't made me do this." I shake my head, and put the egg mixture on his nose. It drips down slowly over his mouth. I bite my lips to keep from laughing. "If you retort, this cake will never be made and Sam will hate you forever. Also, don't lick your mouth – I'm not kissing you if you get salmonella, and it won't taste nice."

"I hate you."

"I love you, too."

I eventually get the eggs sufficiently whisked and mixed with the sugar and butter.

"Okay, now I'm going to need you to – no, let's swap roles. Grab a spoon… I can't remember if it's supposed to be metal or wooden."

"I vote metal."

"Yeah, okay. With it, you fold in the flour."

"I what?"

"Just do this." I demonstrate the movement. "You're trying to trap air in so the cake will rise."

"Okay."

"I'll sieve in the flour little by little, because otherwise it gets really difficult. It starts really runny, like it is now, but it gets thicker really quickly. Ready to show off your arm muscles?"

"Always."

"Let's go."

Dean whisks impressively fast, and though we both end up splattered in little bits of egg and flour, he's done within 5 minutes so I abstain from complaint.

"Nice."

"Thank you. What's next?"

"Apparently some milk. I don't actually know when to put that in, so I guess we should just put that in now and hope for the best."

"Sounds like my type of baking." Dean says, and I grin.

"Okay, is it 'soft and smooth'?"

He looks at it critically, pulls some up on the wooden spoon. "No. But this is probably as close as we'll get." He grins charmingly. "Plus, if it sucks, then he has Jess to bake him great pies as recompense."

"I was meaning to ask, actually; pies seem much more your speed. Why are we baking a cake?"

"He doesn't deserve the awesomeness of pies?"

I shrug. "Fair enough."

He laughs. "No, actually, it was more that I heard pies are harder to make than cakes."

I consider that. "I've only ever baked cakes, not pies before. This may have been a good call."

"Okay, now we divide the cake between the two tins, smooth it with a spatula or the back of a spoon, then bake for about 20 minutes until golden and the cake springs back when pressed. You got that?"

"Uh, sure. Do we just… tip it into the bases?"

"I guess so? Moving it spoon by spoon would take a while."

I sigh. "You're cleaning the kitchen."

"As if. I roped you in so you could help with the clean-up; I'm pretty sure I could have figured out how to make this myself."

"I dunno, the instructions are pretty crap."

"Yeah, I should have been worried when I saw there were only three steps. That's always a worry."

"It should be, yes. Okay, quiet; adults are concentrating." I start to pour the mix carefully into one of the tins, then to the next, and back until they're roughly equal. "Okay, put them in the oven and set the timer for 20 minutes."

"Done, boss. Now what?"

"Butter cream frosting."

"I prefer the water kind."

"That won't hold the cake together."

"You make a compelling point."

"We need _more _softened butter. You're watching the microwave this time."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine."

"What are you waiting for?"

"You're in front of the fridge."

"Sh. I'll go sieve the icing sugar."

Dean removes the butter from the microwave and brings it over. "Now what?"

"You're mixing more sugar and butter. Have fun!"

"I hate you."

"Don't be so hasty; this time, there's vanilla extract in there."

The look he gives me would exorcise demons.

"Okay, now what?"

"Cover it with cling film and stick it in the fridge; we need to wait for the cake to cook first, and then for it to cool, else the icing will just melt."

"Okay…"

"And now we start clean-up."

"Um… I need to go to the toilet?"

"You're an idiot. Start the water running in the sink, you're doing the washing."

He pouts. "Fine."

I pile the assorted dirty bowls and spoons next to him, then dip a rag into the basin to start wiping down the surfaces – probably a bad idea, as we still have some preparation to do, but I'm an optimist.

When I go back over to Dean with my tea towel, he leans over with soapy hands to bat at my face. "Hey, you have a little bit of flour there."

"Thanks ever so much for your help." I reply, wiping my face with the tea towel.

He nods solemnly. "You're welcome."

Most of the kitchenware gets cleaned in relative peace. Whilst Dean may complain about the washing up, I know he enjoys it – I can tell by the fact that he hums and shakes his hips a little as he does it. That treatment is only reserved for when he's _not _sulking over an activity he'd rather not do.

When he's done, instead of going in search of a towel, he waits for use of the already soggy tea towel.

"Dean, it's illogical – you won't dry your hands properly."

"So?"

"A towel would."

"But a towel is in a different room. The tea towel is here."

"If you don't dry your hands properly, germs will settle there again."

"But I just washed them."

"Yeah, but warm and damp is a favourite condition."

"Ew."

"Yes, so go get a towel."

"No."

"Dean."

"I haven't died yet."

"There's always a first time."

"And the first would be the only, I get it. I also doubt this will cause my death."

"It could, though."

"Give me the damn tea towel, okay?"

"No."

"You're no fun."

"I do try."

He pouts on his way to the bathroom, and the oven timer goes off, so I fling the tea towel over my shoulder and grab the oven mitts to get the cakes out. "Nice and golden brown," I say to Dean as he returns.

He doesn't reply, and as soon as the cakes are down on the side, he whips the tea towel off my shoulder and spanks my ass with it. "That's all I wanted with the tea towel."

"You're like a 13-year-old."

"What does that say about you?"

"That I'm more of a babysitter than anything else?"

"I wish my babysitters had acted like you with me."

"I don't want to know."

"No, you don't."

"Okay, these are done, so we just need to wait for them to cool."

He looks at them musingly.

"How long does that take?"

"I don't know. I usually do the cleaning up, feel them, decide they're too hot, then forget about them for a few hours. I'm not a very diligent baker."

"Evidently." He thinks. "Well, I know a way to pass some of the time."

"Let me hear it."

"Nah, I think I'll show you."

He leans down and kisses me. With the smell of cake wafting around the kitchen, and flour probably still on my face, it might just be one of the best kisses I've had.

* * *

**baking with friends is a really bad idea. I'm not the best baker to start with, but when I bake with other people, somehow the baked goods always end up blue or green - thankfully, food colouring, but it doesn't look the most appealing...**

**plus i always have to tidy the kitchen after ;c**


	22. (war consisteth not) in battle (only)

**okay, I couldn't do 'in battle', so I looked up quotes with 'in battle' in and based the chapter on those. If it's unclear, just ask and I can explain it.**

**title: (war consisteth not) in battle) only**

* * *

_War consisteth not in battle only, or the act of fighting; but in a tract of time, wherein the will to contend by battle is sufficiently known_ – Thomas Hobbes

_In battle it is the cowards who run the most risk; bravery is a rampart of defense_ – Sallust

* * *

"Hey, was that Anna?" Dean asks as I put the phone away.

"Uh… yeah."

"What was up with her? Calling isn't really her gig, doesn't she usually just turn up with what's-his-face when she feels like talking to us?"

"Yes, well, 'what's-his-face' is the problem. They're… separating."

"Really? She was totally in love with him."

"It wasn't _her _affections that were the problem."

"So what have you promised her?"

"What?"

"You can't handle emotional girls, and you've got that look that says you've done something you regret. Out with it."

"I said we'd meet with her."

"And..?"

"She chose the place."

"Which is?"

"She… called it a pub. I gathered that they do food and lots of alcohol."

"Sounds like my kind of night out." Dean grins.

"With a distraught Anna?"

He hesitates. "I'm sure we can handle it?"

I laugh. "Sounds like the way to go."

###

2 hours later and we are sat in Anna's 'pub', in a slightly corner table. Dean and I are sat across from each other, and Anna is somewhat in the middle but is simply sat at another side of the table. It's a small table, and I'm not sure anyone ever comes here actually to eat.

Anna tries to laugh when we arrive together. "I think I may have invited you two to convince other people that I'm on a date with two guys."

"I'm sure that will work brilliantly, Anna." I say with a gently teasing smile.

"Especially since the two guys will be making eyes at each other over the table." Dean winks at her, then smiles at me side-on.

"Eh, maybe that'll help with the illusion…" She smiles. "But thank you, guys, for coming out with me tonight. I'm sure you'd rather be home, just you two."

"Hey, you know how I am with emotional girls. How could I say no?" I nudge her gently.

"Yeah, yeah; and it has nothing to do with the 'family values' Michael was so keen on?" She raises an eyebrow.

"If you wanted _Michael_'s family values, sister dearest, you would have called _him_."

She laughs a little, sadly. "Maybe I don't need his views on marriage right now. Somehow I have the feeling you are a little more liberal."

Dean laughs. "Okay, I think it's time someone gets some alcohol here."

"You volunteering?" She gives a charming smile.

"Anything for Cas' sister." He says back with a quick wink.

"You see right through me." She laughs.

They're not really flirting – we've been around each other enough for me to know that. They like to scare their significant others into thinking they are, though.

Anna finds the short silence uncomfortable very quickly. "How is work going?"

"It's all right. We believe a promotion is on the horizon; we very recently were invited to a business dinner with my boss, and I think that went well enough."

"I'm glad to hear it. You guys deserve way better than you have."

"No, we're okay." I smile at Dean's back where he stands at the bar.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?" I fix my eyes on her. My older sister had always been astute in the nuances of people in a way I never had been.

She sighs. "It's nothing. It's just… I didn't notice _my _marriage going badly, so I don't want anyone else to suffer it."

"This sounds a bit too serious." Dean says, placing three glasses in front of us. "Drink up."

###

Given an hour or so, Anna is much more cheerful. Dean and I are still well within the realms of sober, but I cannot say as much for her. Somehow, I believe that was the goal of the evening on all of our parts.

"Dean? Will you get me another?" Anna's flirtations have become increasingly infantile – she is now fluttering her eyelashes at my boyfriend.

"Of course." Dean smiles back in a rather condescending manner. "You need anything, Cas?"

"I'm all right, thank you." He ruffles my hair as he walks past. "Thanks."

"You're welcome!"

"Dean's great." Anna mumbles.

"I know."

"Don't let him get away from you."

"I really don't intend to."

"Just 'cos…" she yawns before picking the sentence up again, "you don't mean to, doesn't mean you _won't_. I mean, I wanted to stay married to him forever, you know? I wouldn't have gotten married otherwise, that'd be silly… but _boom_." She makes a lazy hand gesture. "He… he thinks I don't care anymore, and he's found someone that does. And now Anna's alone."

I put my arm gently around her shoulders. "Maybe you don't have him, but if he can't see how much you care about him, then he's a fool. Besides, you're not alone. Dean and I are here for you whenever you need us, you know that, right?"

Anna shakes her head. "Dean'll only be here for me while you guys're together."

"Firstly; even if we _did _break up, which I feel is pretty unlikely, he'd still help you. He does like you, I promise. And secondly, you… keep acting like we're going to break up and that it's inevitable. Is there… a reason for that?"

She points a finger at me. "Don't assume it's gonna last, Cassie. He could still decide to leave at any time." _So no. She's just paranoid that everyone will break up. Okay, I can handle that._ "I mean, look at him now… he's takin' his time with the drinks, isn't he? So maybe that's not 'cos the bartender-y person is entirely inept, but maybe it's 'cos he likes the look of that girl next to him. _She _definitely likes _him_. And look, they're talking! See, he could just… up and leave you, with no warning. One day, you're fine, then the next… he loves someone else."

"Anna. Anna, listen."

She mumbles vaguely in response.

"Not everyone is the same, okay? Inias was a bad example of a person, in every way I can think of. Dean isn't like that. He isn't flirting with her. I'll bet you almost anything that she started the conversation, and I'll bet they're talking about how long it takes to get a drink. Maybe she's interested in him…" _given the angle she's leaning into him, and this place isn't that loud, I'd say she _is_, in fact,_ "but he isn't in her." _Straight back, eyes occasionally darting back to us._

"Maybe he's acting it." She shrugs, a very large gesture.

"Do you really think Dean would?"

"No… not really." She deflates a little. "I just don't want you to lose him, or be unprepared. I… I don't want you to be me."

"I don't think we'll be breaking up any time soon," I smile reassuringly.

"Promise me something?"

"Of course. What?"

"You'll fight for him."

"What?"

"You won't let him leave without a fight. You love him, I know you really do, and I know… I know that when you love people, you'll do _anything _for them. So would he, actually. But that… that doesn't matter. Not right now, at least. So just… don't let him leave. Let him know you love him. Don't ever make him think you'll leave, and _don't leave_. Fight for him." She shrugs. "It's simple."

I smile. "Sure it is."

She grabs her head. "I can feel myself getting more sober."

"I'll see if I can get Dean to hurry it up a bit. And hey, I'll start fighting for him now, if you'll care to watch." I'm smirking a little, I can feel it, but Anna's beaming up at me, so it doesn't matter.

Dean smiles at my approach, turning his body immediately to me, even as he talks to the girl on his side.

I wait until his sentence is finished to kiss him, because otherwise that would be rude. I keep it relatively short, too, because I wouldn't want to give the impression that I was jealous.

He tangles his hand with mine as our lips part. "You been drinking Anna's happy juice?" He laughs.

"No, actually, and that's why I'm over here. She says she can feel herself getting sober again."

"I'm not sure that's the problem."

"Me neither, but I said I'd see if I could speed up the drink-getting process any more. I'm sorry if I interrupted your conversation, though." I look between the two. The girl smiles at me, though it's slightly strained.

"No, not at all. We were just saying how long it was taking. Not much to interrupt, really." She says, and then waves quickly at the bartender when he glances in our direction. "Hey, can we get some drinks?"

"Sure, what would you like?"

When I look back at Anna, she gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I roll my eyes before returning them.

* * *

**this chapter to the next is like 103% the reason for huge time jumps**


	23. arguing (aka no)

**title: arguing (a.k.a. no.)**

* * *

"No."

"No?"

"No, I won't go."

"Why not?"

"I don't feel comfortable going."

"Yeah, that would be the point." I smile a little. "You're never going to get better if you don't try new things-"

Dean's hand smashes down on the table – thankfully, sturdy and wooden. I jump back a little. "That doesn't change anything. I don't want to go and I won't. Get it?"

I frown. "Yes, but I don't understand _why_-"

"Because it will make me uncomfortable! That wouldn't be fun, Cas."

"I get that, but it'll be better in the long run-"

"You're not my mother. You're my boyfriend. That means that you're supposed to be _there_ for me, and understand why I _don't want to do things_. You're supposed to want me to be happy, and get that just because it'll make me happier _in the long run_ doesn't negate the fact that it doesn't make me happy _now_. _You_ don't even want to go! Drop it."

I set my jaw. "No."

Eye contact spans minutes and says a lot of angry things neither of us wish to give voice to. Dean is the first to break it, looking down and hitting the table again.

"I can't believe you." He mutters.

I feel suddenly quiet and I dig my fingernails into my hands. I look straight at his back, from where he's turned, as I say "Kali's out of town and Gabe's been threatening to kidnap me all week. I think I'll sleep in his spare room tonight."

Dean nods; a sharp, short gesture. I fetch things for an overnight stay, and when I leave the bedroom, he's still in the same position.

I pat my pocket to make sure I have keys before I leave. I give Dean one last look before I shut the door. I try to shut it gently, but I know it'll echo in the small space of our house.

I wait one second, unable to just leave.

Dean waits until he's sure I'm away from the door – though I'm not – and then I hear a loud thud, like a muscular body hitting a wooden floor suddenly.

My hands twitch as I leave.

* * *

**this is awful and short and i'm sorry. the next one is longer. i just... i'm not good at fighting, and i'm worse at writing it. especially when forced not to have them making up in the same chapter, because that at least elongates it.**


	24. making up afterwards (thanks to Gabriel)

**title: making up afterwards (somewhat thanks to Gabriel)**

* * *

Gabriel has hidden a ticking clock in this room.

When I was a small child, I was an amazingly picky sleeper. I couldn't sleep with snoring, breathing, talking, fans whirring, inconsistent AC fixtures… or ticking clocks. Unfortunately, ticking clocks is the one that stuck.

Gabe is the sibling I often had to share rooms with on holiday. He very well knows my problems with sleeping, so it wouldn't surprise me if he hid one in this room as he dropped the bedding off when I arrived.

Of course, the ticking isn't the only reason I can't sleep, but it's the one I choose to dwell on.

Ticking clocks can't occupy my thoughts forever, though, and I spend hours tossing and turning to thoughts of Dean. At 3am, tangled in sheets and slightly sweaty, I sit straight up and rub my eyes. _I am not sleeping tonight_.

The cool air hitting my chest and open eyes make me feel more lucid. _No, I'm not going to sleep without Dean._

I nod once, registering how stupid that is, before I swing my legs out of bed, get dressed and gather all my things back up into a bag. I make the bed as a friendly gesture though I know Gabe will simply have to strip the bed and change the bedding tomorrow anyway.

I choose to text Gabe about where I've gone instead of leaving a note; there's a higher chance he'll find it, and I'm fairly certain he'll have his phone on loud in case Kali calls – petty revenge for the clock.

**I can't sleep. Going back home. Thanks for the clock, you're my least favourite brother. – C**

A few seconds later, his response comes. If he had been sleeping, he would have checked it and gone back to sleep already. Maybe I'm not the only one who can't sleep tonight.

**You go get your man, tiger. And hey, you really think I'd hide a ticking clock in your room? I'm wounded, truly. – G**

**You once swapped Anna's hair dye with 'shocking green'. – C**

**That was simply hearsay, you have no evidence it was me. – G**

**Sure I don't. – C**

**Don't be mean at 3:30am. I'm not witty at 3:30am. – G**

**You're not witty ever. – C**

**That's not very nice :( - G**

**I wasn't trying to be :) – C**

**I hate you. – G**

**No, you don't. Now sleep, Kali won't be pleased to come home and see you exhausted. – C**

**Hey, I'm the big brother here! – G**

**You never act it, allow me to take advantage. – C**

**I guess I do feel tired. – G**

**Thank you for allowing me to stay. – C**

**Anytime, Cas. I mean that. And good luck with Dean. If you break up I'll skin him. – G**

**You mean attack every one of his possessions with itching powder. – C**

**I would never be that common. – G**

**You've done it before. – C**

**But thank you. I mean it. – C**

**You're welcome, little bro – G**

I put my phone away, on the street where our house is. When I arrive at the door, my hands drop to the keys before I decide to knock.

The doorbell has never worked whilst we've been here. I don't know why we've never tried to fix or replace it, knocking is pretty useless.

Dean opens the door shortly after, his hair as rumpled as mine probably is. It appears to be an evening of restless sleeping.

"Can we talk?" I ask quietly. "I can't sleep without you."

He regards me with wary eyes, but he steps aside. _Probably just because you have keys._ "It's your house, too."

I shrug. "Still."

I drop my bag next to my shoes carelessly. The world's pretty hazy right now, I don't want to move more than I have to. We make our way to the only sofa, and in silent agreement take places at either end, as far from each other as we can be.

"I…" _I don't understand what happened last night_. "Talk to me."

His mouth twitches into a small smile, slightly reminiscent of the ones he usually gives me when I use his catchphrases.

I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them.

He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds before making eye contact. "You wanted me to do something I didn't want to, something that makes me uncomfortable. And I get why, don't get me wrong, but… you're always _pushing_. I… when you wanted me to go to dinner with your boss, that was okay, I could forgive that, because you gained out of it. You wanted my support. That was fair, because you go to parties with my colleagues, so that kind of pushing is okay… it's cool if it makes you more happy to be in this relationship.

"When you were pushing me yesterday… I'm gonna assume that wasn't for your benefit, else it's a hell of a lot worse. It was pushing me to get better and yeah, sure, that's good… kinda. But… well… I'm all right. I'm… happy.

"A couple of years ago, I wasn't. I was living in a crappy apartment with my brother, which I couldn't help pay for because I couldn't get a job or see myself ever getting a job. Sam was practically my only friend, apart from you, but we weren't really close then. No matter how many old friends from school may have been glad to hear from me I had, I was too afraid to ever talk to them.

"Then we got together, and things just… got better. Not straight away, but they did. I finally moved out from that apartment, and here is way nicer. Not to mention how much better I've been getting on with Sam… and he and Jess are able to live together and have kids, and that's great. And I've got a job, and it's not the best job and it doesn't pay loads, but I don't feel so useless anymore and I _like _it. I also have friends, which is something I never really thought I'd have… Charlie, that Benny kid you met… random other people I meet up with from school… I even get on with some of your siblings. I'm just… I'm happy now, you get it?

"Maybe I'm not completely 'better' in the way I should be, but… I'm happy. I wasn't, and then I really wanted to get better. For now… I'd rather just keep on with what I've got. If there's something that's seriously impacting my life, like not being able to support you, then sure, I want to get over it. There isn't right now." He shrugs.

I nod slowly. "I get it. D'you mind if I just… explain myself a bit? You'll have to bear with me, though, you know I'm not good with words, and… and it's been a long night." I smile a little.

"I talked to your therapist once. Only once, ever, actually. He'd called here and when I picked up and said I could take a message for you, he said that he'd wanted to talk to me for a while. The gist of what he said was that you'd need pushes to get better, and that he didn't think they'd work coming from anyone but perhaps me or Sam, and Sam wasn't really around enough for it." I shrug. "So I kind of took that to heart. It's not much of a defense, really, but… you're right. I spent years taking that advice, I can stop now. I'm glad you're happy."

"So am I." He smiles.

I give him a level look. "Am I forgiven for being a mindless drone?"

"You went to Gabe's house for the night. You were forgiven when you closed the door." He laughs.

Relief floods through me.

"Plus, he texted me. He left a clock in your room. It'd be cruel to send you back for that."

I laugh, and then I can't hold myself back. I lean forward and wrap him in a hug that, for once, he reciprocates satisfyingly. He kisses my head and then leans his chin on top of it.

"I don't want ever to have to sleep in a bed without you again." He mutters.

"Then don't let me do stupid things anymore."

"I don't think anyone can stop stupidity." He chuckles, and his chest vibrates pleasantly.

"Okay, then next time, we refuse to get angry and talk about it. Then we only leave if one of us is a total tool, otherwise someone gets relegated to the sofa. Walking across town at 3am is terrifying."

"You're a fool."

I sigh contentedly. "I know."

"Okay, off to bed, because if I fall asleep like this my back's gonna kill in the morning."

"Crap." I groan. "It's Thursday tomorrow."

"Hey, it's your day!"

"Yeah, also means work."

He shrugs. "I'm pretty sure sleep deprivation is a disorder or something. Call in sick."

"So tempting."

"Do it. You never take days off."

"But then I have to wake up in the morning to call them." I moan. 3:30am is not my time.

He kisses the top of my head again with a smile. "Okay, then, I'll tell you what. We go to bed now, and I'll call them in the morning – you won't even have to do your fake ill voice."

"Like you'll actually wake up." I grin. "But thank you."

"Try to do something nice for a person," he grumbles as he gets up, offering me a hand.

"Thank you." I kiss him quickly on the lips. "But I need to sleep now."

* * *

**ooookayyy, exams are over. i hope you enjoyed the gabe/cas relationship as much as i did... :)**


	25. gazing into each other's eyes

**title: gazing into each other's (and other people's) eyes**

* * *

"Did Sam change any of our plans?" I ask as Dean hangs up the phone.

"Nah, just making sure I hadn't forgotten and to mock me a bit." He rolls his eyes. "Gave me an idea, though."

I raise my eyebrows. "Should I worry?"

"It's nothing too bad. It's just that his mocking involved telling me how often we happen to 'gaze into each other's eyes like you're drowning and his eyes are the only source of water around for miles'."

"Well, that's poetic."

"Yeah. Anyway, the plan is to see how many times we can make prolonged eye contact without anyone catching on that we're doing it on purpose."

"Care to expand on that a bit?"

"What do you mean?"

"How long is 'prolonged'? I mean, they're going to notice if we just stare into each other's eyes non-stop."

"Yeah… I guess you're right. Okay, we count ten seconds and look away on the tenth every time. Don't break it before that."

"What if someone talks to us?"

"You can respond while still 'gazing', or pretend you didn't hear. The second might raise less suspicion, though."

I nod. "Yeah, okay. Do we 'gaze' whenever we meet eyes, or just on occasion?"

"On occasion."

"Okay, and what happens if no one notices anything off about it?"

"Then we accept that we stare into one another's eyes a _lot_."

I laugh. "Yeah, okay."

###

Our plans for the night were just to go out bowling and for dinner with friends – Sam, Jess, Benny, Anna, and Jess' friend, the awkwardly named Meg. She said she was inviting her to balance the numbers of boys to girls. Sam said Dean filled that criterion. Dean mocked Sam's hair. Meg was invited.

In any case, opportunities for any group of us to go out were rare, so much emphasis had been placed on the importance of everyone attending – leading to many phone calls and texts to remind us. Never mind that Dean and I were the ones with very few busy nights.

We meet at the bowling alley.

"Jess!" Dean says, going over for a hug. "It's great to see you when you're not dumping your kids on us!" I follow with a laugh, greeting Sam on the way.

"I've missed you, too, Dean." She rolls her eyes. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello." I say with a smile.

"This is Meg," Jess introduces the brunette girl to her right. "Meg, this is Dean and Cas."

"Cas is a _guy_?" Meg immediately asks.

"Yeah. Excuse Meg, she has no filter."

I laugh kindly. "It's all right, she isn't the first. It's nice to meet you."

"You, too." She raises her eyebrow in an almost-predatory manner. Dean, somewhat conspicuously, takes my hand from where it lies. "And you, Dean." The sultry tone of her voice continues.

"Nice to meet you. Hey, Benny, over here!" Dean uses his free hand to wave the man over.

"Good to see you, brother." The 'brother' is an affectionate term for a friend that he and Dean have adopted from LARPing as a joke.

"You, too." Dean grins.

"And you, Cas, I never properly thanked you for introducing me to Dean." The twinkle in his eye intrigues Meg – or she isn't keen on being discarded for a slightly overweight man.

"That sounds like an interesting story."

Benny laughs. "Yeah, Cas here saved my life, which was good enough, but then he introduced me to some of my current best friends. It was a pretty good day, all around." He flashes a quick wink at me, a habit he picked up from Dean, before going to introduce himself to Jess and Meg.

"Cas!" Anna calls before wrapping me in a hug. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course, Anna. It's good to see you again."

"Hey, Dean." The two hug with smiles, and then I introduce Anna to the rest of the group. Meg seems to view her as competition, so I take it upon myself to make sure nothing too dramatic happens there.

Sam claps his hands loudly, "Okay! Let's go get shoes and a lane."

###

The first instance of prolonged eye contact occurs when Dean is inputting names for turns. He stipulated that real names cannot be used, and so far he has been put in as Batman, Jess as Smurfette and Sam as Rapunzel.

Dean turns to me, ponderingly. "And Cas…" Eye contact is made, and I can see his lips moving slightly as he counts to ten. We both have smirks turning up the corners of our mouths.

"Jesus, hurry it up! I'm getting old here." Meg complains.

"You can't rush genius." Dean replies, still holding eye contact. On the tenth second exactly, he looks away and says, "aha! You've got to be Mr. Fizzles."

Sam and Jess laugh as I groan. Sam takes the liberty of explaining. "Garth, has a sock puppet he swears can tell when someone's lying. He tormented Cas for a whole weekend once because Cas _dared_ lie in Mr. Fizzles' presence and say he didn't love Dean."

"In my defense, Dean had just served up a pancake on my head."

"It's not my fault you're grumpy in the mornings!"

###

The second instance of prolonged eye contact happens after Dean scores a strike. He turns around with fists pumped to a crowd of groaning adults. He comes to sit next to me, so I turn to face him with a dramatic fist clenched over my heart to make eye contact. "I am _so proud _of you." He imitates my expressive face and nods. After ten seconds exactly, I turn away to watch Jess' turn.

"If one of you was a girl, you'd be so pregnant." Meg mutters.

###

The third instance of prolonged eye contact occurs roughly halfway through the game. Drinks are getting low and the placings are starting to be set – Dean is winning, followed closely by Sam. Jess and Meg constantly swap third and fourth place, with Benny occasionally swooping into fourth but mostly staying in fifth. Anna is solidly sixth and I am dead last.

"Hey, Cas, mind getting me another drink?" Dean grins at me, launching eye contact.

I roll my eyes. It still counts. "If you take my turn."

"You drive a hard bargain." He pretends to tap his chin.

"It's my lowest offer."

"Very well then, I accept." The ten seconds are up, so I turn around and grab my wallet.

"Hey, can you fill up my drink?" Jess asks, followed by Sam, Benny, Meg and then Anna nods and asks me too.

"If you guys pay." I say.

"You're paying for Dean." Anna pouts.

"I'm paying with his money."

###

We don't manage more eye contact until dinner. However, since we choose to sit across from each other, it ought to be easy. In fact, we manage a simple 10 seconds as everyone moves around us to grab seats.

###

"Hey, Cas, have you eaten here before?" Meg asks from my right.

"Um, yes; once or twice."

"What do you recommend?"

"The burgers are great."

Dean hears that and looks over at me, interrupting his conversation with Benny to make eye contact.

"Oh, is this a couple thing?" I can hear the grimace in Meg's voice.

"Yeah, we came here for our first date." Dean grins.

"God, you guys are disgusting."

Dean winks at me on the ten second mark, turning back to Benny.

###

"How are you, Anna?"

"I'm… all right, actually." She smiles faintly.

"I'm glad to hear it. You know I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks, little bro."

"Must you always bring up the ages?"

"Yup, I've always got to assert my authority."

"I can accept that. Oh, and Dean told me to tell you that he's there for you, too."

Dean turns. "Dude, that was more of a 'if you see her before I do'."

"How was I supposed to know? You merely informed me to tell her."

"You're useless."

The end of the ten seconds has a challenging air. If it weren't for the rules, I would continue eye contact until Dean apologised, so when we both turn at the tenth second, he smirks.

Anna leans in close. "Are you and Dean up to something?"

"I'll tell you if you don't tell the others. And if you help."

She nods easily.

###

Anna finishes her glass of wine and laughs. "Guys, is it immature to do staring contests? I'm feeling it."

Sam grins. "Don't start this; I _always_ won when I was a kid."

"Have you ever met Cas?" She retorts.

Everyone looks at me. "You make a good point," Sam concedes.

"I like the idea anyway." Dean looks straight at me, realising I've let Anna in on the idea.

We get another nice ten seconds there while Sam and Anna argue over rules.

"Okay!" Anna claps once, loudly. "You turn to the person across from you and see if you can hold eye contact for a full ten seconds. Anyone who can't is out. That's the first round, we'll figure out the next one later."

As Anna is at the head of the table and thus not across from anyone else, she is umpire. "Okay, I'll give you a count of three. When I say 'go', you start. One… two… three… go!"

Dean and I easily manage ten seconds without blinking, ignoring Jess and Benny groaning.

Anna laughs at the end of the ten seconds. "Okay: Dean, Cas, Sam and Meg are through! I'm gonna pair Sam with Dean and Cas with Meg, whoever lasts longest goes through to the championship round. Jess, you help me umpire Sam and Dean, Benny, you help with Meg and Cas. You guys ready?"

We all affirm, and she counts. "Go!"

Meg is not a fair player. She licks her lips, moves her chest and tries to portray a 'come hither' look with her eyes. Never has my preference for men done me more of a service; I maintain level eye contact for long enough for her to blink harshly.

Jess has already declared Sam the winner as Benny calls my name.

"Okay, Dean, do you mind swapping seats with Sam here for a sec?"

He sighs laboriously. "I suppose I can."

"Okay, everyone, choose someone to monitor for blinking. You two ready?"

Sam and I nod, eyes closed.

"Okay… three… two… one… go!"

Our group is in rare silence. I prefer playing against Sam, who keeps his face straight and doesn't twitch at all.

That is, until I feel his foot touch my shin and start crawling upwards.

I raise my eyebrows at Sam, who widens his eyes slightly in innocence. We both relax our faces quickly, knowing they both affect how long our eyes can be kept open for.

I decide against any revenge action in the hope that the concentration required in his choice of action will work to my advantage.

His foot works its way up smoothly. It is halfway up my thigh when Anna gently says "thirty seconds", presumably in a manner so as not to disturb us.

My eyes don't even feel dry. Sam's are starting to twitch slightly.

Sam's foot reaches his destination just as he blinks violently. Unfortunately, that causes a chain reaction, and he jerks his leg in an action that would be hilarious were it not so painful.

"Sam… did Sam blink first?" Anna is asking, as the table is in slight disarray after Sam's violent kick. My eyes are tightly shut.

"Yeah," Benny replies.

"Dude, what _happened_?" Dean asks, slightly worried.

"Cas, seriously, how did you withstand that?" Sam asks me.

"Have you ever met your brother?" I ask in a slightly strained voice.

"Shit. I kicked you, didn't I?"

I nod.

"Crap, I'm sorry!"

"Sam. What the fuck?" Dean asks.

"I'm… gonna get some ice." Sam says, turning around to find a waiter.

"It's okay!" I call, sitting up straight with only a slight twinge of pain.

"Someone want to fill us all in?"

"Sam's plan of attack was footsie." I say with a shrug. "Unfortunately, his blink/kick combination coincided with the end of the game."

The boys all wince.

"Well," Dean says. "Tonight was fun, but I think it's time we go home and I treat Cas to some TLC. Thanks for paying for us, Sam, bye!"

He grins and pulls me out of my chair.

"You're a dick, Dean!"

"Well, you may have done damage to Cas' dick, so I think I'm off the hook."

Sam grumbles, but we're allowed to leave.

* * *

**not so keen on this ending, but if i'd made it any longer i wouldn't have revised at all. hope you enjoy anyway :)**

**i'm not entirely sure of the purpose of most of the characters being in here buT I DID IT ANYWAY**

**i also may have bought coke bottles with not only my name on, but also sam, dean and adam for stupid supernatural purposes and then had to explain it to my mum so i could put them in the fridge. oops.**


	26. on one of their birthdays

**title: on one of their birthdays (a.k.a. Cas really likes his secrets)**

* * *

I shuffle so I'm next to Dean's ear. "Dean, I've made you pancakes." His eyes shoot open.

"Pancakes?"

"Yes."

"I am very, very awake."

"Then go eat."

"I intend to." He smiles at me, presses a kiss to my jaw, then follows the smell of pancakes to the kitchen.

I sip my coffee as he does his best to inhale the pancakes.

When he's done, he sets his fork down purposefully and turns to me. "It's a Thursday."

"Yes, it is."

"It's 10am."

"Yes, it is."

"You should be at work."

"I took the day off."

"Why?"

"If you can't guess, I'm not telling you."

"That's mean."

"If you can't figure it out, I'm worried." I smile and stand up. "You might want to get dressed. I have a whole day planned for us."

His eyes narrow. "What's the date?"

"January 24th."

I turn around at the sound of Dean's feet and am swept up in a strong (very, very nice) kiss. "I love you."

I laugh slightly breathlessly. "So you figured it out." He nods. "I just made you pancakes."

He rolls his eyes. "You took the day off to give me a birthday. That deserves an impromptu confession of love."

"I'm not complaining." I swat his ass. "Now go get dressed."

"Surely I should be getting _un_dressed after a romantic moment like tha-"

"Don't push your luck." I laugh.

"Wasn't aware I was pushing it to start wit- okay, I'll go!"

###

"Where are we going?"

"You're a three-year-old."

"You always say this, and then you always sound surprised when people think you're a paedophile."

"A three-year-old in a perfectly legal body."

"Still sounds creepy."

"Still not telling you where we're going."

"You're the worst."

"Oh, well, I could still go back to work, I'm sure they wouldn't complain…"

"Nope, that would make you the worst."

"Stop with the kissing, unless you want me to crash."

###

"Uh… Cas?" Dean says hesitantly when we pull up. "I'm not really into museums."

I roll my eyes. "How long have I known you? Do you trust me?"

"Of course, but-"

"You're into history, especially about wars. This is about the history of the town, it's got fragments of weapons and armour… trust me, you'll like it. And if you don't, then we'll leave."

He shakes his head. "Fine. But if it sucks, then you're responsible for ruining my birthday."

"I'll take that risk."

We walk in, I buy the tickets and tell him just to wander around. I've already been, and this is certainly not anything I'm interested in, so I don't really look. Instead, I watch Dean.

He starts off determined not to like it, but he gets sucked in and gives up. We wander around, Dean peering closely at little specks of metal, reading all the boards and occasionally paraphrasing a story or two for me, watching the movies in the rooms… it's immensely fulfilling to see him so into it.

And when he finds a movie less interesting than he expects, he decides that the room is perfect for kissing in. I'm not complaining.

###

"Where to next, boss?" Dean asks with a cheeky grin as we leave.

"It's time for lunch."

"You're my favourite."

"I better be, the amount of effort I've put into this." We smile at each other as Dean links our hands.

"What are we getting?"

"The tried-and-tested favourite of burgers and fries."

"You have that glint in your eyes. What else?"

"I'm not buying you a 3-course meal."

He shakes his head. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"Yes, I do." I smile as winningly as I can.

"I rescind my earlier declaration of you being my favourite."

"Application denied."

"It's not your choice."

"Now it is."

"Hey, I thought it was my birthday! When I was younger, birthdays meant getting to do what _I _wanted to do."

I snort. "Sure it did."

"All the more reason it should now!"

"Keep dreaming, Dean."

###

After getting the food, I force Dean back into the cold. He makes a show of hugging deep into his coat and tightening his scarf.

"Yeah, wrap up, we're not going inside anytime soon."

"You're awful to me."

"It's not my fault the river's pretty in winter, and it's certainly not my fault everyone else is too stupid to appreciate its prettiness just because it's cold." I say as we arrive.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind being one of the stupid ones right now." He smiles, though, so he doesn't really care.

"You're tough, you can handle it."

"Flattery will get me to stay." He nods as we sit on a bench. "But we better huddle to share body heat."

"I fully agree." I say, and sit close to him. Like I'd ever complain.

We eat quietly, and when we finish, Dean puffs out his breath in one big cloud of condensation and then sighs. "I'm not a fully-grown dragon yet. I really thought this year would be the one."

"Well, life wouldn't be quite as fun without ambitions."

"But if I have to wait much longer, I'll be too old to make much use of the abilities!"

"No, I'm fairly certain you have a few years left of activity in you. You're still pretty energetic and spry."

"Okay, spry is a word that should only ever be used in to describe old people."

"Yeah."

"You're not being nice to me today."

"I wouldn't be me if I was nice to you."

"You made me pancakes and took the day off to celebrate my birthday!"

"The exception that proves the rule."

"That idiom doesn't even make sense." He grumbles. I shrug.

I continue to watch the ducks. I've always loved ducks – so maybe this portion of the day was more to satisfy me than Dean. I don't think he'll mind it for a short while, at least.

He sits next to me for a while, before shaking his head. "Nope, I'm not so keen on ducks."

"Do you want to leave?"

"Nah, I can hang here for a bit." He says, and turns so his head is in my lap. He is very markedly gazing at me.

"I thought I was the designated gazer in our relationship."

"I've never been one for following conventions. In fact, one might even be able to call me a rebel."

"I'm not sure I'd go that far."

We smile, and I entwine our gloved hands, appreciate of the warmth radiating out of his. With my hand resting in his lovely, soft hair (he hasn't had the opportunity to gel it today, given I rushed him. I'm appreciative) and the ducks frolicking in front of me, I'm content.

I eventually start to feel a shiver starting. "Okay, it is _really_ cold. Shall we continue on?"

"Sounds good to me." Dean gets up readily, offering me a hand and not letting go after he helps me up.

"Cold?"

"I've already complained about that; don't act like it's a surprise. Where are we headed to now?"

"Well, we're going in this direction." I point.

"You're no fun."

"It will be."

"Your enigmatic answers are making me sad."

"You'll survive."

"Speaking of, how are you coping with your pathetically thin and flimsy coat?" He smiles charmingly at me.

I roll my eyes. "Perfectly well, thank you. I feel quite warm."

"Okay, that's a lie; we just sat on that freezing bench for a half hour."

"But this proximity to you makes my insides feel all warm and fuzzy." I clutch my heart dramatically, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Doesn't mean your coat's any good."

"I've had it long enough, don't you think I would have gotten rid of it if it were no use to me?"

"Well, you _are_ pretty stubborn."

"I'm also pretty intelligent."

"That's debatable."

"Okay, now I'm not talking to you until we arrive."

Dean nods sombrely, and proceeds to recite to me all the definitions he can remember from his Chemistry exams back in school.

###

"Okay! We're here."

"Are… are we at an arcade?"

"Yes, yes we are."

"I hereby pronounce you my favourite again."

"Oh please, I have always been your favourite."

"Eh, maybe…"

I pull a plastic bag of coins out from my pocket. "I have change."

"Yep, always."

"You're such a gold-digger."

"Then it's a good thing you love me."

"So it is. Where do you want to start?"

"You do know of my deep, undying love for first-person shooters." He looks around.

"You mean your deep, undying love for winning games against me with ease."

"Yes, so first-person shooters."

I roll my eyes. "There's one over here." I pull him over.

Whilst we play, Dean is silent and concentrating. Unsurprisingly, I lose very quickly. He continues to play, and whilst I linger for a short while, I instead go to find another way to occupy my time – I have the money, and an empty arcade.

I find one of those penny machines, the ones where you put in a coin and try to knock the other pennies off and figure that'll fill enough time but not run over to when Dean finishes.

"Oh no, you found one of the penny machines."

"What's so bad about them?"

"Nothing… except there's nothing really to win. The problem is _you_, you don't play them right."

"How can you _play them right_?"

"You play to _win_. Well, you're supposed to, but you just play until you run out of coins."

I shrug. "Yes, I enjoy it."

"You're supposed to just want to gain money; it's like gambling for kids."

"I'm content not to. Plus, this way I know when to quit; if I quit because I think I have lots of money, I'll always wonder if I could have gotten more."

"Yeah, this way you just _know_ you could have gotten more. Come on, let's go find another machine."

"I haven't finished!"

"I don't care!" He grabs my hands and pulls me. "Tell me, are we in profit?"

I pout. "Yes."

"Then I did you a favour."

"Okay, but we're playing one of the dancing games."

He sighs. "But the music on them is 80s disco music."

"Yes?"

"Fine."

"Thank you." I smile.

###

"So we've finally found a reason bow legs aren't the evolutionary norm."

"Shut up."

"You have to realise that, given how often you have teased me about being superior at first person shooters, I am prepared to get my fill out of this for the next few years."

"If I stick around that long."

I sneer. "Like you could leave."

He winks. "You keep telling yourself that. So what next?"

I look at my watch and shrug. "Home?"

"Why did you look at your watch before suggesting home?"

"Must the two relate to one another?"

"Coincidences don't just happen coincidentally."

I raise my eyebrows.

"It sounded better in my head." He looks around, then nods. "Yeah, I don't think there's more I want to do here. I'll let you take me home and have your way with me."

I roll my eyes. "You think I scheduled time for that? You'd let me 'have my way with you' _here_."

He fakes an offended face, straightens it out. "Are you offering?" Lascivious smile.

"Okay, we're leaving now."

"I'm cool with that. Can I have the keys?"

"Nope." I smile at him, grab his hand and lead the way to the Impala.

"Why not?" He whines. "I know where we're going, you have no excuse."

"Yes, I do. I'm in control today, and you never go the way I want you to."

"I go straight home, what's wrong with that?"

I shrug. "It's not the scenic route."

"_Scenic route_."

"Ever wanted to stop and smell the roses?"

"There aren't any roses to _smell_ whilst in a car, don't be silly."

"Stop and view the roses."

"If you dare stop in the middle of a road…"

I roll my eyes. "Admire beauty."

"I have you."

I narrow my eyes. "That was weird. We're still going the scenic route."

"You're so not nice to me."

"Yes, I am."

"Okay, you kind of are."

###

"It wasn't that pretty, Cas, and we could have been here like half an hour ago."

"Shut up."

"No! I'm right and you're n-" We're on the doorstep, so I figure it's safe enough for his favourite method of interruption, a lovely, long kiss.

I open the door whilst kissing him and push him inside, not _too _roughly. I am a practiced multi-tasker.

Winding my arms slowly around his neck, I count down from three with my fingers, displaying them to the living room without – hopefully – betraying what I'm doing to Dean, and pull away when I get to zero.

A chorus of 'happy birthday' breaks out from Sam, Jess, Benny, Anna, and a few of the colleagues Dean has mentioned getting on with. Dean himself, ruffled and pouty-lipped, punches me in the side.

"You're _such _a _dick_."

* * *

**fluff fluff fluff**

**okay this one was written over ****_three days _****which is so not in the spirit of things, but, in my defense, i was running through my last exams and they were the ****_baaaad_**** ones. I hope you like it. It's haunted my unconscious whilst I've not been writing it, so I have to say the idea of it, at least, pleases me...**


	27. on their wedding day (aka hitched)

**title: on their wedding day (a.k.a. we got hitched)**

* * *

My head is in Dean's lap, his hand in my hair, and Dr Sexy MD is on the TV in front of us. "I want to change my name to Winchester."

His hand stills. I think I feel him stop breathing. "What?"

"I like the sound of Castiel Winchester."

Another gap. "So do I."

I nod. Wait.

"Are you proposing to me?"

I think. "Kind of. I mean, I'm not actually interested in marriage, but… we've been together a while – a long time, actually. 'Boyfriend' never seems accurate and… well, I know it won't change the label we use, but with the same surname…"

"Why Winchester and not Novak?"

"I prefer… your family values, I guess. Your family stuck together far better than mine, and your relationship with Sam is truly to be admired. Of course, the fact that, of the two siblings I still talk to with any regularity, one isn't even a Novak helps. Anyone in your family I talk to is a Winchester."

"They'd still be family even if you changed your name. Plus, our family values aren't as great as you're making them sound."

"I know your family isn't perfect. But… you stick together. It's kind of an… us against the world mentality? My family was more survive at all costs, even if it means throwing your family under the bus."

Dean falls into a thoughtful silence.

"I also think Castiel Winchester sounds better than Dean Novak."

He laughs. "I can agree with that one." His hand starts moving in my hair too, and I resist the urge to purr contentedly – my love for his name and for him playing with my hair being indulged at the same time. "Don't name changes cost money?"

"We've been gaining since my promotion and your raise, so we actually have some money saved. I've checked, and it's more than enough… if we're both happy to spend it this way."

"It's cheaper than a wedding."

"It is."

"And this would take all the pressures of a wedding off."

"It would."

"Then I'm all in. Prevent the awkward engagement." He winks down at me.

I beam up at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He pauses. "But did you have to interrupt Dr Sexy for this? Couldn't have waited ten minutes?"

"You've seen this episode before, I decided it didn't matter."

He gasps. "Blasphemy. Can I change my mind on the name change?"

###

When I hear the doorbell ring, I sit up and run my hand through my hair to make sure it isn't standing at all angles after Dean's brand of hair styling.

He narrows his eyes in confusion. "Are we expecting someone?"

"No, it's probably Anna, though."

"She turns up randomly, how come you think it's her?"

"I may have called her to check my 'proposal' idea wasn't completely idiotic." I smile winningly and go to open the door.

"Little brother!" She sings, and wraps her arms around my neck. I respond with arms around her waist and a squeeze as she whispers in my ear, "You popped the question yet?"

"Yes, you're looking at a bride-to-be." I wink as I pull away.

"Wait, you proposed in _pyjamas_?" She wrinkles her nose.

I shrug. "Dr Sexy MD was on TV. What could be a more romantic setting?"

Dean walks out of the bedroom, having put a shirt on. "He's right, Dr Sexy puts me in a good mood. He knew it was iffy as to whether I'd say yes, so he had to get the right circumstances."

I nod as Dean and Anna hug. "Also, I resent the implication of pyjamas being awful – I'm wearing Dean's shirt, he loves that."

"I don't want to know. Anyway, I'm only here for a little while, but I have a proposition for you two from me and Gabe."

Dean holds up his hands. "This does _not _sound like anything I want to be involved in."

She rolls her eyes affectionately. "We want to pay for the name change, as a sort of wedding gift."

"Not because you want to get me out of the family?" I smile.

"Well, that is an advantage."

I look at Dean to check neither of us have a problem with that. "Thank you, Anna. That's really great of you two."

She smiles largely. "We're happy to. You know we've been waiting for you guys to move on from the boring just-boyfriends stage for ages. But I have to go now – so I'll see you guys later?" She smiles as we go in for hugs again.

"Absolutely."

###

**Sam Winchester Castiel Winchester**

Wait, I've got another brother? Has my life suddenly turned into an old Greek drama or something?

**Dean Winchester** we got hitched, idiot

**Castiel Winchester** I'm not planning on marrying my mother

**Sam Winchester **why weren't we told earlier though? :(

**Dean Winchester **notice the word 'hitched', it was a bit of a shotgun wedding

**Castiel Winchester **Yes, it's a girl :)

**Sam Winchester** what?

**Castiel Winchester **I put you in the email where we explained everything to everyone. I'm not explaining it all again :(

**Sam Winchester **I can't believe you expect me to ever check my email…

###

**Castiel Winchester Gabe Novak**

Thank you for paying for 'ester'.

**Gabe Novak **wait, why don't I get 'Winch'? :(

**Anna Milton **because I dropped the news, so I got first choice. Aaaaand I always 'Win', and I'm an 'inch' taller than you ;)

**Gabe Novak **this is what I get for being a good brother :(

**Castiel Winchester **maybe I'd have given you the option to have paid for 'Winch' if you hadn't left your watch under my pillow last time you came over.

**Gabe Novak **you're ostracising me for an innocent mistake?!

**Dean Winchester **woah wait, gabe claiming to be innocent?!

**Castiel Winchester **never thought I'd see the day.

###

**Anna Milton Castiel Winchester **

ahahaahha, did Michael unfriend you, too?

**Castiel Winchester **I'm still reeling that he ever made a Facebook in the first place, then that he friended me, to even have this phase me.

**Anna Milton **yeah, I get that

###

**Dean Winchester**

why is every1 congratulating cas? i got hitched to…

**Jess Winchester **likes this.

**Castiel Winchester **Congratulations, Dean.

**Dean Winchester **you dont count.

**Castiel Winchester **picky :(

* * *

**i've only ever been to one wedding and i've never had any kind of fascination with them, so i'd have found a conventional wedding difficult to write - not to mention that gay marriage is not quite legal where i am. i actually thought this would end up being better overall. hope you guys don't mind :)**


	28. doing something ridiculous

**title: doing something ridiculous (a.k.a. flabby, fat and lazy)**

* * *

"Cas!" Dean says, and practically _bounces _over to me as soon as I enter the house.

"Hello, Dean." I say, wide-eyed and wary as he pulls me into a kiss. "What's happened that I'm going to hate?"

He widens his eyes in a mockery of innocence. "Why would you get the impression that such a thing has occurred?"

I raise my eyebrows.

"It's actually a pretty great thing, Cas, get ready." He grins.

I merely blink.

"I'll tell you the story, not just what we've gained. Okay, so Jo has this karaoke machine-" I groan, but Dean continues regardless, "-and she absolutely _loves _it, which obviously means she's singing a lot and Jess and Sam weren't particularly keen on having that at all hours. So they gave her this limit of times, so like she couldn't use it after 5pm or before midday, or something like that, and she broke the rules a few too many times so they confiscated it. _But _she's a pretty smart kid, so if they hid it in the garage or something, she'd just find it, take it back, and use it anyway, so Jess asked if we could look after it for a week or so. I, of course, being a kind brother-in-law, said yes. And, not to worry, I asked if it was okay if we could use it. The answer is yes, and she says that if we break it then it might be a blessing to her, but Jo would hate us for a while."

"Why would you want to do karaoke?" I say in a groan-like tone.

"The question should be why _wouldn't _I."

"What kind of music would it be?"

"It seems to be entirely Disney films. I think there might also be a Hannah Montana song, but you're safe from that one."

"I want no part in this." I say, taking off my coat finally.

"I think you do, really."

"I really, really don't."

He looks at me thoughtfully. "I think I could convince you."

"I think I might go put in some extra hours at work."

"What if I said you'd just have to be my backing singer or whatever? Do the small parts to start with."

"What if I said no?"

"Then I'd do it anyway, but be very, very sad."

"And I'd hear from every corner of the house."

He shrugs mischeviously. "Oh, I don't know how loud it might be."

I sigh. "Fine, hook up the microphones. Don't expect any kind of enthusiasm from me, though."

"Oh, that's too much to ask for on a good day." He winks. "I've already set it all up. Got any preferences on song?" The machine is fairly daunting, even if it is relatively small and the microphones appear to be wireless.

"None?"

"_Be Our Guest _it is, then." He grins at me, launching the song, then makes eye contact as he affects an _awful_ French accent. "_Ma chere mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents – your dinner_!"

"I'm terrified that you did that without looking at the screen."

He hastily hushes me as he launches into the actual singing part. "_Be… our… guest!_" Dean quickly shifts it into a performance as I sit on the sofa like the killjoy I am. He points and spins and grins, completely ignoring my amused head shakes. "You ready to join in, it's almost your part…"

I roll my eyes, but lift the microphone to my mouth. "_Beef ragout, cheese soufflé, pie and pudding 'en flambe'." _

Dean continues, giving me a look that clearly says I should have tried hardly. "_We'll prepare and _serve with flair, right Cas, _a culinary cabaret_…"

I deliver my next lines with merely a dead eyed look at Dean, again. "_And it's all in perfect taste, that you can bet. Come on and lift your glass, you've won your own free pass to be our guest._"

"Aw, come on Cas, you're ruining the fun of it!"

"That was rather the intention, and you're missing your lines."

"If you don't act it, at least a little bit, I'm divorcing you." He pouts.

I roll my eyes. "Well, we can't have that."

Dean grins, and grabs me in some one-armed hold that suggests he'll try and dance with me. "How am I supposed to read the lyrics?!"

"Figure it out!"

"_Be our guest, be our guest, be our guest, get your… chest. Let us say for your entrée we've… suggest: try the bread! Try the…_" While I try to read the screen, Dean spins me. I can't help but laugh and grin, which kind of ruins my unaffected air. I can't really complain though.

Dean continues his line, "_Be our guest!_"

"_Be our guest! It's a-_"

"Dude, that's Mrs Potts!" He hits me on my side. "I'm singing her."

"I thought you were Lumiere!"

"I am, you're just only the chorus!"

"Would've been nice to know earlier."

"Shut up, you're making me miss my part- _I'll be bubbling, I'll be brewing._"

Dean carries out the rest of his part with extravagance, and suddenly goes into his solo part as Lumiere again with a sad, sad look on his face. "_Life is so unnerving for a servant who's not serving…_" He has a twinkle in his eye, though, so I'm worried. "_Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills! Most days we just around the castle; flabby, fat and lazy…_" and he _pokes me in the side._ "_You walked in and oops-a-daisy!_"

I narrow my eyes at him and aim a punch at his shoulder. "_Be our guest, be our guest, our command is your request. It's been years since we've had anybody here and we're obsessed._" I aim for a different route, eyes flicking back to the screen for my lines, and poke a finger into his side; the one spot he's ticklish.

In a fit of sharp laughter, he flinches a whole foot to the side. I sidestep, and aim my finger again, to which he pulls his hands to his side. I raise my eyebrows and with a swift movement, jab his other side. This time he leaps into me and I can't hold back my laughter, dropping any pretence of singing.

"You suck." He sighs, dropping an arm over my shoulders and leading me back to the machine. I know it's only to reduce the chance of me being able to jab him again.

"You started it."

"I didn't expect you to retaliate."

"Do you even know me at all?"

"You used to be so nice!"

"If that's true, then _you _must have been the one to corrupt me."

"I regret it."

I shake my head. "So what song next?"

"Ha! I knew you'd like it."

"Shut up." I smile.

* * *

**I was gonna have them do other songs, too, but typing out songs makes a chapter boring and it was already over a thousand words so I figured that wouldn't be too appealing... however, as is, it isn't really 'ridiculous', so?**

**I dunno. If anyone would be interested in an extension I guess I could pm it to anyone who reviews and asks? that way it's up to you. but obviously, i haven't written it yet, so you may have to wait... and that wouldn't work for any guests. i don't know. mahashehbjasdj**

**speaking of ridiculous, my face is fairly saturated in dog spit. my friend's dog is rly excitable.**


	29. doing something(s) sweet (aka victory)

**title: doing something(s) sweet (a.k.a. victory is sweet)**

* * *

I wake to the soft pressure of lips on my own. "Dean?"

He smiles down at me. "Good morning."

"So it is. Any reason you woke me instead of my alarm?"

He shrugs. "I woke up about two minutes ago and thought it'd be a nicer way to wake up than the alarm."

"That's sweet." I smile back, only gently teasing.

"Well, that was the aim."

I lean up on my elbows to kiss him quickly – morning breath – and then ask if I can get dressed.

"No, I don't think you should."

"So I should go to work nude?"

"Might get you another promotion." He shrugs mischievously.

"I believe it's more likely to get me fired, but thank you for the compliment." I merely raise my eyebrows as I reach for one of Dean's shirts.

"It's Wednesday, Cas, not dress down Friday."

"So? I'm indulging your fetish. Others wear casual shirts with smart jackets and trousers, I'm sure I can get away with it for one day." I launch a casual wink at him before pulling on trousers.

"Cas!"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You winked at me!"

"So I did."

"Since when can you wink? That's my thing!"

"We're married now. We share."

"So you've been practising in the mirror."

"Maybe."

He grins and climbs out of bed to kiss me on the top of my head as I pull on a blazer. "That's adorable."

"More or less adorable than waking someone up with a kiss?" I flutter my eyelashes slightly for effect.

"Less. Definitely less."

"We'll see."

"I propose a contest." Dean's eyes light up in a terrifying way.

"Oh no, I've heard about your 'contests' with Sam and I want _no _part in this."

"It won't be as bad. It's to see who can be the sweetest to the other in one day."

I eye him contemplatively. "Okay. It has to be something the other witnesses, though. You can't just make a blog on the internet to do with my eyes or something."

"What if I send you the link?"

I roll my eyes. "I'd say okay, but I don't have the time to anything comparable given that I must _actually _work in my work hours."

He grins. "Okay, so no long-term projects."

"Absolutely. May the best man win."

He smiles sweetly – an oddly terrifying look for him – and ruffles my hair. "Good luck."

"Go back to sleep." I say gently, kiss him on the cheek and push him into bed. "You need your rest. Big day ahead." I wink again, and go to brush my teeth.

###

**thank u for lunch. better than anything ive ever made :) – d**

**You're very welcome, but I doubt that. You're far better at making burgers than I am. – C**

**hav u ever even made burgers? theyre really easy & i bet u can actually make them better than me. ill teach u later if u like – d**

**I'd love that :) – C**

**then its a date :) – d**

###

**I need to ask a favour. – C**

**No. – G**

**Gabe! Please! – C**

**What is it and why should I do it? – G**

**Tell me how you got Kali to stop being mad at you that one time – C**

**ARE YOU AND DEAN FIGHTING? – G**

**No! – C**

**We're in a contest to see who can be 'sweetest' in one day. – C**

**Thank fuck. If you break up, then there's no hope for the rest of us. – G**

**You and Kali are great together, shut up. – C**

**Maybe, but you and Dean are like a fairytale. It makes me feel sick. – G**

**A fairytale with two males? – C**

**Irrelevant. How do I win? – C**

**I don't know what Dean likes. It just has to be personal. Don't send a bouquet of roses, that's cliché and trite. Unless he likes roses. – G**

**'Personal' isn't really helpful. – C**

**Okay, so you send him his favourite flowers, or something that's a symbol of your relationship. What you did on your first date. Write him a poem or something, I bet you can do that. – G**

**Actually, I'm better at continuous prose… - C**

**Fuck off. – G**

**Thank you for your help. – C**

###

**why is anna here what did u do – d**

**dude. – d**

**u cant recruit ur family to help – d**

**that's like ur not doing it urself – d**

**I did the work myself, I simply couldn't deliver it. – C**

**what fuckin work, its flowers – d**

**Gathering them from the park – C**

**U HAD TIME TO GO TO THE PARK BUT NOT DELIVER THEM – D**

**Yes, the park is close enough to my workplace that I could gather them, deliver them to Anna and then return to work in the space of an hour. I could not, however, get home and back on top of that. – C**

**Plus, I do not believe this series of texts to me is very 'sweet' :( - C**

**shit – d**

**I love you, thank you very much for the thoughtful gift! – D**

**You're very welcome! – C**

###

"Hey, Castiel." Naomi walks up to my desk.

"Hello, Naomi." I barely suppress a sigh and manage to work up a slightly strained smile.

"I notice you went out for lunch today."

"I did." _Only slightly creepy_.

"Anything good?"

"No, mediocre at best."

"I'm sad to hear it."

I shrug. "I've had worse."

She nods solemnly. There's a pause where I make pointed eye contact and she refuses to leave.

"I really ought to be getting-"

"There's a reason I came over here, and it isn't for idle chatter."

"Okay."

"I went out for lunch today as well, but I was a bit later than you – you might have noticed." She looks at me with expectant eyes. I don't respond. "Anyway, I went to this coffee shop a few blocks away – their sandwiches are amazing, you should really try it sometime – and… and I saw Dean there with another woman." She gives me pitying eyes.

"Okay." I say.

"You don't look worried at all." Perplexed.

"No, he has female friends, as do I."

She smiles. "Thank you." I cast her a confused glance. "But, um, well… he kissed her."

"Okay."

"Surely you must be worried about that."

"No, not really."

She seems agitated. "I know how much you care for Dean. I only wish he felt the same way about you. Enough to not kiss another!"

"I trust him. If he kissed someone, then there's a reason behind it." I shrug.

"How can you think there's any acceptable reason for your boyfriend to be kissing someone else?"

"Because I trust him."

"Call him."

"I can ask him about it later."

"No, you'll need someone to support you if it turns out he truly has been unfaithful."

"I shouldn't do this in work hou-"

"Call him, Castiel."

"Okay, Naomi." I dial Dean's cell number from memory. "Hello, Dean." I smile.

"Are you okay? Why are you calling from work?"

"I'm fine. I've been instructed by Naomi to question your fidelity."

"What?"

"Apparently she saw you kissing someone in a coffee shop."

"Oh, that."

"Should I be worried?"

"Nah. I told you I was meeting with Lisa today?"

"It rings bells."

"Well, her ex – her very recent ex – walked in and she started panicking a little because she hadn't really moved on and didn't want him to come over and set her back, so I just kissed her. He didn't come over. She knows it didn't mean anything."

"Okay. Did you enjoy your coffee, at least?"

"Yeah, it was good to catch up with her."

"I ought to get back to work. I'll see you in a couple of hours?"

"Sure. Try to enjoy work."

"Oh, thanks." I laugh as we hang up.

"That sounded friendly." Naomi says.

I blink twice. "Oh, we're more than friendly."

"So he has an acceptable excuse?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I don't believe it's any of your business."

"Aha! So it's a weak excuse."

"If it was an unbelievable excuse, I'd not be as 'friendly' with him."

"But why do you believe him?"

"Naomi. I trust him. We have been in a relationship for many years, and very close friends for years longer. If he tells me something, then I like to believe him. He hasn't lied to me yet."

"It only takes once."

I give her a heavy stare. "You're being very rude, Naomi. You do not control me, or my relationships. Kindly let me get back to work."

She maintains eye contact for a few more seconds before turning on her heels and leaving. I sigh.

**I'm sorry about that. Naomi refused to leave me alone. – C**

**thats ok. i was gonna tell u tonight just in case – d**

**It's all right. I trust you. – C**

**:) – d**

###

**when u leave work, dont walk past any 67 chevy impalas ok? – d**

**Is this an order of jealousy or practicality? – C**

**im picking u up from work & taking u out for dinner – d**

**and im forcing you to eat at least 2 courses. i kno u didnt have lunch cos of the flowers – d**

**Thank you – C**

###

"I thought you said everyone would be too jealous of the Impala for you to ever take it anywhere near my workplace." I quirk an eyebrow as I lean in for a quick hello kiss.

"I thought today was a good day for facing my fears." He winks. "I like that shirt on you, by the way."

We get in the car. "I like mine on you, too." We exchange stupid grins.

###

Dean insists on holding my hand throughout dinner. I gaze at him for a majority of the time. He insists on ordering for me. I insist on paying.

As we leave the restaurant, I sigh. "Can I give up yet? Nice as this is, it doesn't feel like us."

Dean looks at me. "I know what you mean. But I'm not sure that could count as a lose, it was pretty 'sweet'."

I smile. "I'm more than willing to take the loss."

"Well, I'm not going to complain." He pulls me in for a proper kiss, one that couldn't _ever_ be considered 'sweet'.

I pull back, slightly breathless. "This isn't something we should be doing in public."

"You make a good point. Get in the car, I'm taking you home. Now."

* * *

**okay, this prompt has been one I thought 'easy peasy' about, so I thought I better challenge myself somewhat and try to fit as much sappy shit in one chapter as I could. **

**somehow, i think the birthday chapter was actually sweeter.**

**oh well**

**I HAVE FINISHED WRITING THIS STORY. Tomorrow it ends.**


	30. doing something hot (aka hurricane)

_**this is still t-rated. **_**saying that, this chapter holds the most sexual themes of them all. consider yourself warned.**

**title: doing something hot (a.k.a. like a screen door in a hurricane)**

* * *

"Take your shirt off."

"No, I'm fine."

"You won't be in a while, it'll get really hot in here..."

"No need to be lascivious. Fine."

"..."

"Stop touching my chest."

"You love it."

"Maybe, but that isn't the aim of today."

"Okay, you make a valid point."

"..."

"..."

"We're gonna need the window open. Any reason today had to be the day?"

"I was feeling it today."

"..."

"..."

"Right."

"Don't mock me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Okay, line it up."

"Like this?"

"Yes."

"Okay, hold still... you ready?"

"Yes."

"..."

"What's taking so long?"

"I'm a bit nervous about fucking up. It's not like I'm a complete novice, but I've never done... _this_, exactly, before."

"I know, but I trust you. Just be careful and aim properly."

"Okay. Okay. I can do this."

"Do you need a countdown?"

"No! Okay, I guess I'll just... do it."

"Argh!"

"Crap! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just... wasn't expecting it. Keep going, just remember what I said about _aim_."

"Yeah. Shit, I am sorry."

"It's fine."

"..."

"Don't be so tentative. Harder."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to-"

"You won't. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Harder."

"Fine."

"..."

"Is this one done?"

"I think so. Nice, we just have three more nails to go."

"Don't be mean."

"I'm not. You haven't broken the door yet, I probably would have."

"I thought you said there was nothing to worry about!"

"Positive thinking does wonders."

"Then why did you stop?"

"You hit my thumb with a hammer."

"I really am sorry."

"Yeah, well, a good apology would be to put another nail in so I don't have to hold the mirror up anymore."

"Ah... good point."

"..."

"..."

"But really. Why today?"

"My vanity finally took control, and I'm not in a lazy mood. Plus, it gives me reason to force you into going shirtless and allows me to blatantly objectify you."

"Charming."

"That's me."

"Hit the damn nail."

"I'm scared. You said you'd have broken the door."

"Yes, but you won't."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I've been telling you to hit harder. Your blows are soft, you won't break anything."

"Then why are you telling me to hit harder?"

"Because the mirror's pretty heavy, Dean, and the longer I have to hold it in place, the hotter I get."

"Oh, you're already hot."

"Yes. That's why I'm sweating. Hit the nail."

"Oh, fine."

"..."

"..."

"_Thank you_."

"You're welcome."

"Get the rest of the nails in already."

"Why are you complaining now? You're not even touching the mirror."

"Because I'm hot, sweaty and half-naked for all the wrong reasons and the mirror means I can see your chest from every angle."

"Oh. Well. Um. Hold the door for me?"

"Sure."

"..."

"..."

"Mind holding it steady? It's swaying like a screen door in a hurricane."

"It's more difficult than it seems."

"Not really."

"I'm trying to stop it moving from the force of a _hammer_."

"You make a valid point."

"Thank you."

"Hold it steadier."

"Fuck you."

"That appears to be the general plan."

"Only if you hurry up."

"I'm not breaking the door just because you're horny."

"Might be worth it."

"Shut up and let me work."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Okay, done! Is it wonky?"

"No, it's beautiful."

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

"If I say 'me', does that mean you're the prince, I'm the princess and we're gonna kiss to signify a happy ever after?"

"Sure."

"I'm the fairest of them all. Kiss me already."

"..."

"..."

"Happy ever after, Cas."

"Shall I cue the romantic music?"

"I'm not fucking you to twiddly Disney music."

"I don't know, it might f-"

"..."

"..."

"You were saying?"

"..."

"..."

"_When you wish upon a star, it makes no diff_-"

"Shut up."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"It fits, though, admit it."

"No, I'm angry at you for getting Disney stuck in my head at a time like this. My childhood is ruined."

"You don't seem to care."

"I do, though."

"You're stripping, though."

"It's hot."

"Yes, you are."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Happy ever after, Dean."

* * *

**and that's the end. Figured I'd upload early-ish so as not to keep you waiting.**

** I've spent literally the whole series trying to figure out how to do 'hot' when I can only really do fluff, and then wanted it to feel like a proper ending too (because I don't like to make things easy for myself). I came up with this at like 11pm and then wrote it instead of sleeping. I hope it doesn't disappoint.**

**And I wrote it on my iPod then emailed it to myself, which means I woke up to an email that said "Take your shirt off." Oops.**

**Anyway, thanks to all of you for taking this journey with me! I'm not good at committing to multi-chapter fics, so thank you for your support!**

**I started publishing a new, drabble-y, Cas-centric, non-shippy story called _Home_. So maybe it's pretty much the opposite of this fic, but it'd mean a lot to me if you'd check it :) xxx**


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